


In His Eyes

by Echos_of_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable Sammy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Caring Dean Winchester, Guardian Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Guardian Angel Gabriel (Supernatural), M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Smart Sam Winchester, Soulmates, Wincest - Freeform, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-02-22 18:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echos_of_Blue/pseuds/Echos_of_Blue
Summary: In this world, only soulmates can see the colour in each other's eyes. Soulmates are suppose to be a beautiful, wonderful, normal union of two perfect souls. Soulmates are suppose to live long and love-filled lives together. However, the 'suppose to' changes when your soulmate is your own brother. A fact that neither humans - nor angels - are comfortable with. And a fact that both groups will fight to change.





	1. Hooks of The Hunt

**In His Eyes**

 

**Chapter One: Hooks of the Hunt**

 

~O~o~O~

 

_You with the sad eyes_

 

_Don’t be discouraged_

 

_Oh, I realize_

 

_It’s hard to take courage_

(Mary’s Pov)

 

It was a simpler time when Dean first heard of soulmates. Soulmates… well, they were a sacred thing. It wasn’t like the discussion was an inappropriate one, but it was an important one and Mary wanted to wait until Dean could understand before she explained it to him. She wanted the fairy tale life for her son - a childhood full of wonder, a good education, college, a beautiful soulmate, a family of his own, and of course a home that was always waiting for his return.

 

Twenty years from then Mary wanted to sit around the kitchen table, telling Dean’s soulmate about the time John duct-taped his diaper to him. She wanted to laugh as Dean covered his face and John quipped “just wait until you get one of your own”. She wanted to smile softly as Dean’s soulmate would blush and look up shyly… Mary just wanted a family. A perfectly _normal_ family.

 

The little boy was sitting between Mary and his father, watching a colourful movie play out on the little box T.V in the den. They were all close, and Mary was enjoying the warmth of her husband’s arm around her shoulders much more than “The Little Mermaid”. The  movie was just ending now, with the Prince looking into Ariel’s eyes and seeing the blue blossoming in her eyes, melting the gray away. At that moment she felt a rush of love from John and she looked over to him, losing herself in the rich chocolate of his irises. It was the most beautiful colour she had ever seen - more beautiful then she thought possible.   

 

“My Mary,” John said, his voice low and rough. “You’re so beautiful… your eyes look just… bluer than an ocean sky.”

 

Mary laughed a little, tilting her head down. Her husband was far from a poet, but his words always filled her with butterflies - even after years of marriage.

 

“G’ay,” a little voice peeped from her left.

 

Mary looked down at her three year old. “What, sweetie?”

 

“G’ay, Momma’s eyes g’ay, Daddy.” Dean announced, around the two fingers in his mouth.

 

Mary looked at John with a shared thoughtful expression. The boy had been learning his colours for a few months now, but this was the first time he had asked about eyes… was three too young for this conversation? Mary bit her lip. She remembered her own mother explaining the magic of soulmates when Mary was around seven. She remembered how the conversation started factually, like the older woman was explaining the mechanics of a hunt, but ended with a wistful smile. Maybe she could just give the kiddy, watered-down version for now.

 

“Well - you see, Dean, Daddy’s my soulmate,” Mary said, turning her body to the side to look at her son. “Remember the story we read last night? Remember how the prince and the princess could see colour in each other’s eyes when they met and how special that was?”

 

Dean nodded, his brow pinched in confusion, an adorable look on the boy.

 

“It’s the same for me and Daddy,” Mary continued. “To me, Daddy’s eyes look like a handsome, dark chocolate colour. And to Daddy, my eyes look blue. And one day, you’ll have a soulmate of your very own.”

 

“Me?” Dean asked, excited now, like Mary had just told him he was getting a new toy.

 

“You, buddy,” John chimed in, patting his son’s shoulder. “And you’ll love them more than anyone else in the world - well, other than your kids of course.”

 

John tickled Dean lightly at the last comment, extracting a giggle from the toddler.

 

“Welly?”

 

“Really,” Mary confirmed, her eyes sliding to John’s and her hand brushing through her son’s spiky hair. “I wonder what colour your eyes are.”

 

“Mine ‘er prow-ly red.” Dean said, nodding to himself, and giving his mother a big smile.

 

“Red?” John asked, amused. “How’d you figure?”

 

“‘Cause red’s a awesome colour, Daddy.”

 

* * *

 

(John’s Pov)

 

As soon as the door opened, Dean was right there, bouncing on his heels and balancing on his tiptoes - desperately trying to sneak a peek at the bundle of blankets in his mother’s arms. John couldn’t help but chuckle at his son’s enthusiasm.

 

He and Mary had been so worried when Mary fell pregnant again that Dean was going to be upset. Dean was a sweet boy… but he wasn’t really the sharing type, or even the very social type. Sure, he’d smile and play with other kids at the park, but he much preferred the company of his family. John was worried that Dean would get thoughts that his parents didn’t want him anymore, or that they loved the new baby more than him. John also knew that a baby takes a lot of attention - which would definitely cut into Dean’s time.

 

However, to his complete surprised, Dean felt just the opposite. When his wife and him sat the four year old down and explained that his mom was having another baby, Dean just kind of shrugged and said “‘kay”. John had just chalked that up to the boy not actually understanding the implications of his father’s words - and how could he? He was only four years old for crying out loud. Though, as Mary grew - _she’s not getting fat, Dean please stop -_ Dean’s demeanor began to shift. He spent most of his time with Mary, asking every question there was about the new baby.

 

_“What’s its name?”_

 

_“We don’t know yet, Dean.”_

 

_“Is it a boy or a girl?”_

 

_“We’ll know when they’re born, Dean. It’s a surprise.”_

 

_“Can I hold it?”_

 

_“Sure, Dean.”_

 

Dean also shifted from shy around strangers to bluntly not. He was especially protective of his mother recently. “ _It’s perfectly natural for young boys to be protective of their mothers. Even more so in Mary’s state. Dean seems to be protective of his mother because he perceives her, perhaps subconsciously, as being vulnerable right now.”_ Mary’s doctor had said when the couple questioned him about it.

 

And protective Dean was.

 

John distinctly remembers that disaster in the supermarket. Mary was showing quite prominently at this point, walking along the aisles with one hand in Dean’s and one on her belly. People - or women, it seemed - tended to get very up close and personal when another woman was pregnant. Personal space flew out the window in favor of grabby hands and “motherly” pats. Something John didn’t like and Mary cringed at. Some older woman had stopped her shopping - with three bags of cat food in her cart, god help him - and began fawning over his wife.

 

_“Oh, how far along are you, dear?”_

 

_“Um, about seven months.”_

 

_“Oh dear, you really need to learn that in weeks,” the lady said, in an annoyingly condescending tone. John thought she said “dear” way too much. “Eating healthy, I presume? No fish?”_

 

_“No fish,” Mary indulged, forced but polite._

 

_“Just a dear,” the woman said with a plastered fake smile that cracked her alarmingly red lipstick, then she made her mistake._

 

_The woman reached out a hand and laid it on Mary’s stomach. Before Mary could say anything, a red plastic lightsaber slammed down on the woman’s wrist. The strike was hard, lightning fast, and left a large pink spot._

 

_“Ow!” She had yelped, bringing her hand to her chest. “Why I never!”_

 

_“Dean Winchester!”_

 

John shook his head, remembering how unrepentant Dean was, not even apologizing. Only saying “she had it coming”, making the woman storm off, grumbling about how parents need to control their children. Mary had sternly reprimanded Dean, saying how wrong it was to hit people. Dean still didn’t say sorry, though, and John could tell that Mary really didn’t want him to - she was just playing by the book.

 

Dean got the lightsaber that day.   

 

Then, in Mary’s third trimester, Dean had adopted the habit of talking to the unborn baby - which John and Mary both found a bit… creepy - but sweet. Though it was creepier when John had asked why Dean talked to his mom’s stomach, citing that the child couldn’t hear Dean yet. Dean just shrugged again, saying that “it likes my voice”, which John admits, had him raising his eyebrows. But both him and Mary were only children, so they supposed this was what sibling love looked like between kids so young. They thought nothing of it.  

 

“Hey buddy,” John said, tired but happy as he lifted his - now oldest - son up and placed him on his hip. His lips tilted up as his son gave him no attention, turning to watch Mary as she thanked their neighbor, Miss. Karen for watching Dean. When the older woman left, Mary turned back to her family.  

 

“I wanna see it,” Dean whined, making grabby-hands at his mother.

 

“Dean,” his mother admonished softly, adjusting her hold on the baby. “ _He_ isn’t an it, he’s your new baby brother.”

 

This sentence only spurred Dean on, causing John to tighten his hold on the wiggling four-year-old.

 

“Okay, okay,” Mary laughed at the squirming little boy. “John, wanna sit him down?”

 

“Come on, Dean-o,” John said, plopping his son on the couch and looking him in his uniform gray eyes. “Ready to officially be a big brother?”

 

“Yeah-yeah-yeah!” Dean exclaimed, bouncing and holding out his little arms. “P’ease?”

 

“Be careful - and still,” Mary instructed as she slowly placed the sleeping baby in her Dean’s arms.

 

Oddly, or at least in John’s mind, Dean’s arms wrapped tight around the baby as if he had done it a thousand times - even Mary had to practice a few time before she got the hold right - and she was his mother. Although, in her defense, her youngest son was much smaller than Dean had been, and much more… vocal and squirmy about his distress - though, he was sound asleep now. Maybe Dean’s small arms made it easier.  

 

“His name is Samuel Winchester,” Mary whispered once the baby was settled. “But you can call him Sammy if you want.”

 

“Sammy,” Dean said aloud, mesmerized with the little human.   

As if the child had heard his brother’s call, Sammy opened his eyes.

 

That was when the entire world ground to a stop.

 

* * *

 

(Dean’s Pov)

 

Dean’s mouth parted as a sense of warmth and calm and _home_ washed over him. His arms and legs tingled, his eyes stung for just a moment before he felt at complete peace. It felt as if he had just came home after years of being alone and cold.

 

He and his brother locked eyes, and it was as if Dean was seeing the world for the first time. The lights were brighter, the feelings more intense. And most of all, Dean could see his brother’s shining hazel eyes staring back at him. Dean was too young to understand all the emotions coursing over him but he embraced it with the maturity of an old soul.

 

He felt like he was in a small boat in the middle of a vast and endless ocean. Then, it felt like there was a creature there with him, a huge sea monster. Yet, instead of fearing it, Dean gave it his complete and unwavering trust. He just let the emotions wash over him and take him wherever they pleased.   

 

Dean brushed a hand across the baby’s brow, the rest of the world evaporating until it was just him and Sammy. The baby didn’t close his eyes at the touch, just simply stared at Dean, saying all the words he hadn't learned yet - and some words that could never be learned, only felt. It felt like forever wrapped in a second as he committed every inch of the baby’s face to memory.

 

“Sammy,” Dean whispered again, as if reciting an ancient and delicate prayer.   

 

“Dean,” John’s worried, slightly distorted voice filtered into Dean’s mind. “Dean?”

 

“There’s so… pretty.” Dean said, with love drenching his voice - the words he was truly searching for being too advanced for him to know.

 

“Dean?” It was his mom this time, just as worried. “Dean, what’s pretty?”

 

“His eyes - Sammy’s eyes - they’re - his eyes ‘er has-el… sparkle-ly.” Dean murmured, his tone sounding much older than four. “Like - like stars but better-er.”

 

Dean was too engrossed in his brother to watch his mother’s hand cover her mouth or his father’s jaw loosen. However, he definitely felt it when his mother snatched Sammy away. The warm feeling was instantly severed, leaving cold emptiness in its wake. Though… there did seem to be something… new. Something Dean couldn’t place but wasn’t there before. But, Dean didn’t have time to think on that at the moment.   

 

“Hey!” Dean cried out. He hadn’t been mad at his mother in months - he just couldn’t anymore - but now, hot rage filled the child’s veins at the lost. “Gimme back!”

 

At Dean’s yelled demand, Sammy started crying. Harsh sobs that Dean physically _felt_ in his chest. The baby screamed and kicked and Dean was having none of his little brother being upset.

 

He rushed forward, but his father was faster, grabbing him around the waist and pulling the boy back.

 

“No,” Mary said, tears in her own eyes. “No, no, _no_.”

 

With that, at a last look at his dad, Mary swept from the room, taking the screaming baby with her. After a moment, Dean heard, over his and Sammy’s yells, that the bedroom door was slammed shut.

 

“Daddy…” Dean cried, tears flowing down his cheeks. “Want _Sammy_ , p’ease. Ma-ke Momma bri-ng ‘em back!”

 

“Dean, I…,” for once, his father was lost for words. So, he didn’t speak again, just held Dean tight to his chest and tried - failing - to calm the distraught child.

 

* * *

 

(John’s Pov)

 

John Winchester never claimed to be a smart man. He wasn’t the type to try and figure out the ‘why’ behind things. He could read something, remember it, and repeat it but when it came to discovering the reason, he never saw the point. His mentality was ‘you deal with your own shit, no matter why it’s there’.

 

He tried to apply this to the situation at hand, but he found it difficult. Very difficult. John was never a religious man either, although his mother had taken him to church on occasion. But right now, he wanted to scream at the heavens to why they would ever do this to his little boys.

 

There was only one other ‘recorded case’ of siblings being soulmates. And which medical journal recorded that? Oh, right, none. That particular case was recorded by the fucking bible itself. It was the story of Michael and Lucifer, born brothers and soulmates and well… that story didn’t exactly have a happy ending. John knew, that if anyone got wind of what his children were, their lives would take a nosedive into a world of doctors and reporters.

 

John ran a hand through his hair, Dean’s crying bringing him back to the present. The here and now, focus.

 

“Hey, Dean, buddy,” John tried again. “Listen, listen - I’m gonna go talk to your mom, okay? I’ll - uh, I’ll ask her to bring Sammy back? How’s that sound?”

 

At the name, Dean’s head lifted. “Sammy?” Asked the teary little boy.

 

“Yeah, Dean… just give me a few minutes, alright?”

 

“Kay,” Dean nodded, rubbing his eyes with his fist.

 

“Good boy,” John praised.

 

Leaving his son on the couch, John got up and headed to the bedroom. What he found there made his heart hurt. His beautiful soulmate was there on the bed, arms curled around his youngest son. The boy, Sammy, was crying - no louder than a kitten. Mary had tear-tracks on her cheeks - her blue - godly blue eyes shimmered as she looked up at him.

 

“John what -” her voice broke. “What are we going to do?”

 

John sighed as he made his way to the bed. He sat down beside the woman, running his fingers through her long blonde hair, a touch she leaned into gratefully.

 

“We’re gonna be parents, Mary.” John said, his tone resolute. “We’re going to raise _our_ sons - we just might have to do it a little differently.”

 

“Differently?” Mary repeated, her voice verging on hysterical. “Differently? John, it might be easy at four and nothing but what about ten? Twelve? Sixteen? Twenty! What are we going to do when our boys want to - oh god.”

 

John felt a headache creeping up on him. Mary was right, of course. What the hell were they going to do? Tell two soulmates they couldn’t touch each other? Couldn’t… kiss each other? Hell, that wasn’t even legal, keeping two soulmates apart. But what else could they do? The thought of giving Sammy up crossed his mind for a moment before he batted the thought away - he couldn’t do that to his boys.

 

“We’ll figure it out, Mary,” John promised, pulling his wife into his side, mostly so she couldn’t see the doubtful look on his face.

 

* * *

 

(Mary’s Pov)

 

Mary wanted to believe her husband’s words - she really did, but she couldn’t. She knew how these things - supernatural things - ended. She knew the story of Michael and Lucifer well - better than most. She knew exactly what would happen to her boys if this… disease was allowed to fester.

 

So Mary did the only thing she could do; what she was trained to do - she worked the case.

She had been right before, it was pretty easy at four and nothing. She didn’t exactly like the interactions between her boys, but they weren’t inappropriate - yet. Dean always loved to be near his little brother and Sammy loved Dean. Dean could get Sammy to calm down when no one else could - an action that always brought a bit of jealousy into Mary’s complexion. Even if Sammy was tired or hungry, he would settle down in his big brother’s arms. He seemed much more… aware than a baby should. Rarely did babies actually form a soulbond, as they couldn’t exactly get out and meet people. But when they did… at least his actions so far had been normal in that regard.

 

It had been five months since that day, from the day her life turned over. Mary had been slowly going down hill. She had picked up her old man’s habit, finding her new best friend in every bottle of cheap whiskey. She poured over lore books she swore she’d never look at again. Nothing - nothing - nothing, god Mary needed to catch a break. But there was just nothing.

 

Other than a few faked, attention-seeking cases of sibling soulmates, there was just nothing credibly written on the subject. She had even dug up a few of her old contacts, and still nothing.

 

Mary knew she looked like shit and John was getting worried - more worried. Miss. Karen was also beginning to get suspicious. The only time she had to research was when John was at work, so Miss. Karen had been watching the boys. Mary wondered if the old woman was more concerned for her or her sons.

 

It was also harder for her to interact with her sons - a fact that she hated. She wasn’t even able to breastfeed Sammy anymore or play cars with Dean. She hated it, but it made her sick to watch her sons play while knowing what they would grow up to be. She had once physically gotten sick when Dean had given his little brother a goodnight kiss - on the lips. That had resulted in a time-out that Dean really didn’t understand or deserve and a shaky day for Mary. If she couldn’t handle that, what would she do when her boys were teenagers?

 

John seemed, for the most part, able to ignore it and Mary tried but she just - she couldn’t.

 

* * *

 

One month later, on the sixth month anniversary of Sam’s birth, Mary was struggling. More than normal, so far from normal that John had suggested a therapist - _John_ had suggested a _therapist_. God, she was losing it.

 

Mary let her bloodshot eyes scan over the empty bottles littering the kitchen table. She could hear the static from the TV, John was probably passed out in front of it after getting both boys to - seperate - beds. Her hands shook badly, opening another bottle and letting the sour smell encompass the room. She allowed tears to escape her eyes as she thought. She should have known, she thought bitterly. Each hunt - _each and every one_ of them had a grappling hook that sunk into you. Even after one, you could never escape - and Mary had been on more than she could count. Even when it wasn’t a case and there was no monster, the supernatural seemed to drag her back in, kicking and screaming.   

 

She couldn’t cure her boys, that much she knew. There was no cure to soulmates, as it wasn’t supposed to be a curse. She searched, prayed, and fell apart but nothing would help. Nothing would save her…

 

Mary’s train of thought halted as her eyes landed on a stray kitchen knife. The blade was sharp, familiar - almost inviting. Mary swallowed. Maybe she couldn’t save both of her boys, but she could save one. On colt-like legs, she stood, steadying herself on the table. She let her fingers wrap around the cold plastic of the knife handle. She could save one of her boys, she _had_ to save one of her boys.

 

This - all of it - had started with Sam. Maybe… maybe Sam was a monster? A monster that faked being a soulmate to lure… what was that called? A siren, no. A singer, maybe? Mary thought she read about that once, she probably did. That - that was probably what Sam was. And she, she loved her baby boy but ‘a monster’s a monster’, as her dad would say. Mary laughed, her voice cold, without humor, at the damn irony of it all.  

 

 _He,_ her father, had to shoot friends before - when they were too hurt to continue or had been turned. And she - she could too.

 

She could be strong.

 

Stumbling and holding the wall for support, Mary made her way up the stairs. All the way trying to convince herself that the vile act she was about to commit was justified. It was to prevent worse.

 

She pushed opened the door of Sammy’s nursery.     

 

The woman stood there for a few moments, knife in hand, watching the mobile move slowly above her baby. Shaking, she moved slowly forward, each step a stumble. When she finally reached the wooden crib, she grasped the railing for support, her body too heavy to hold itself.  She sobbed as she raised her hand, white fingers encasing the glinting blade - and nothing happened.

 

She felt as if her whole body had frozen.

 

“Oh, no, no, no,” a voice she didn’t recognize spoke from behind her as a cold air swept through the room. “Aw, Mary, I’m disappointed.”  

 

The man walked from behind her, a smell of sulfur ripping through the fog of alcohol, and filling her with an all too familiar instinct. Her hunter training tried to kick in, but it was oppressed by the inparing whiskey.

 

When the man brushed past her and spun to face her, she didn’t recognize him - but she did recognize those glowing yellow eyes. Those same eyes that killed her parents and her soulmate ten years ago. Those same eyes she had looked into as she made her deal, the one that had nagged at the back of her mind for a decade. Cold dread washed over her like ice, making her shiver.

 

It seemed the demon came to collect his due.   

 

“Can’t have you getting out of the deal that easy, eh?” The man smirked, banishing the knife from her hand and releasing his hold on her.

 

“What do you want?” She asked, the question instinctive, even as she stumbled back.

 

“Now, is that really the tone to take with a man that just saved your baby’s life?”

 

Mary, infuriated by the demon, and done with it all - too drunk to really question it, went to strike the yellow-eyed freak. Instantly, she was stopped and pushed into the wall behind her by some unseen force.

 

“Mary, Mary, you’re killing me - well, not really,” the man hung his head for a second before popping right back up. “But! It seems like I can’t keep my little vessel safe with you on the board anymore. A shame really, but it makes no difference to the big picture, you know?”

 

Mary tried to talk but she couldn’t. Pain laced her as her body was dragged up the wall and onto the ceiling.

 

When the fire burned her life away, she wondered if there was a heaven. For once, she wished there wasn’t - because she knew she wouldn’t go there.

 

She just hoped that maybe, just maybe, her boys would be alright. All of them.

 

* * *

  


	2. Undeniable Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's quite a bit of swearing in this one. Sorry guys, but I promise it'll get happier after this chapter. Maybe. Also, sorry in advance for any mistakes. Thanks for reading!

 

  Chapter Two: Undeniable Truth 

 

_ In a world full of people _

 

_ You can lose sight of it all  _

 

_ The darkness inside you  _

 

_ Can make you feel so small _

 

~ O ~  
  


 

It was a more complicated time when Sam first heard of soulmates. He was just a kid, only seven years old. It was actually his first year in school. 

 

Dean already knew what he and his brother were. Dean knew about the world of monsters - he knew much more than an eleven-year-old should. He had flat-out refused to let Sam go to school the last two years that he could. With everything he knew, how could he let his little brother into that world? However, this year the pressure from his father - and now his brother too - had cracked his resolve. His brother  _ did  _ need to learn - and he was quickly outgrowing what Dean could teach him.  

 

For the first week and a half, Sammy was walking on air. Dean would meet him in front of the school and all the way home Sam would ramble on about everything he learned that day. Apparently, Sammy even made a friend with another kid who shared his book-nerdiness, as Dean called it. It made Dean smile that his brother was laughing and acting just like any normal kid his age. 

 

But sadly, like most things in their life, it didn’t last. 

 

Dean knew something was wrong as soon as he saw Sam standing underneath a large tree at school. The kid had his head bowed, his mop-like hair falling over his eyes, and his fingers clutching a book to his chest. Sammy stayed silent the whole walk back to the motel and Dean didn’t press. It was fairly rare for Sam to be upset like this, but when he was, he usually liked to think it out. 

 

And he’d get annoyed and bitchy when his thinking was interrupted. 

 

They had gotten to the motel, unlocked the door, and settled in before Sam spoke. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, looking down at his lap. Dean wouldn’t have even heard him if he wasn’t already listening. 

 

“Dean?” Sam’s quiet voice called out. 

 

“Yeah?” Dean turned down the volume of the TV to give his full attention to the kid. 

 

“Are we freaks?” Sam asked, his head still lowered. 

 

“What?” Dean demanded, just about lunching out of his chair and heading to stand right in front of his brother. The first thought that assaulted his mind what that some idiot was bullying his little brother. “No, ‘course not, Sammy. Why would you even think that? Did someone tell you that junk?” 

 

Sam stayed silent, catching his bottom lip in his mouth. He brushed his hair back in a nervous habit he had picked up after wanting to grow his hair out but still refused to look up. 

 

Dean, having none of that, gently placed a hand under Sam’s chin and tilted his head up. As the silky hair fell away, a pair of large, beautiful, hazel eyes were revealed to Dean. Dean’s heart shattered at the sight of those eyes shining with tears. 

 

“C’mon Sammy,” Dean said softly, in a tone he reserved solely for his brother. “Tell me, won’t you?” 

 

Sam sniffed, his eyes going to the side, he had never been able to ignore that tone. “Ms-Ms. Ellis is our Health and PE teacher and on Tuesdays, she does an in-classroom lesson.” 

 

Dean nodded, so far he knew all this. 

 

“And,” Sam continued, eyes flickering to Dean’s. “Today, she had a lesson about soulmates.” 

 

Dean’s breath caught on the last word. He hadn’t thought about it in years, not really. Not since his dad had explained the danger it put them - it put  _ Sam  _ \- in. 

 

“What did - what did she say?” Dean asked warily. He wanted to know exactly how much Sam knew before saying anything. 

 

“She said that only soulmates could… see each other's eyes - see the colour in ‘em.” Sam said sadly. “Dean, are we soulmates?” 

 

What the hell was Dean suppose to say to that? He couldn’t exactly lie to his brother. Well - he could, but Sammy always knew. But that innocently asked question broke his freakin’ heart. Dean didn’t know much about soulmates, but he did know that they were supposed to be a good thing - and he absolutely hated taking that away from his brother.  

 

So, Dean did the only thing he could do. 

 

“Yeah, Sammy, we are.” 

 

At that point, Dean found himself with an armful of little brother. Sam’s shoulders were shaking. Dean was worried now. Sammy barely ever cried - even as a baby. 

 

“Sammy, what else did she say?” Dean said a plea and a demand all at the same time. 

 

“She,” Sam’s words were slightly muffled by Dean’s shirt. “She told the story ‘bout, Lucifer ‘n Michael.” 

 

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, reining in his own emotions. He knew that stupid story too. 

 

Carefully, Dean placed two hands on Sam’s shoulders. Sam whined as Dean pulled him back, but went anyway. 

 

“Sammy, listen to me,” Dean said, trying to let his honesty shine through his eyes. “That’s just a story, okay? It’s not real - and even if it was, we’re different. I would never, ever hurt you Sam, you know that.” 

 

Sammy looked up, his eyes filled with trust but a frown still tugged at his lips. “I know, Dean. But, what about me?”

 

“What?” 

 

“What if  _ I  _ hurt  _ you _ ? I don’t want - but what if-?”

 

“Sammy,” Dean said, shaking his head at how ridiculous his little brother could be sometimes. “You wouldn’t do that,  _ I  _ know that. Plus, I could beat your skinny ass any day of the week.”

 

Sam huffed, brushing his long bangs from his face, but there was a smile firmly set on his face. “Whatever.”  

 

“Good,” Dean said, returning Sam smile. “Now, you gonna go all stupid on me again?” 

 

Sam let out a chuckle and pushed his brother. “You’re such a jerk.” 

 

“At least I’m not a bitch,” Dean quipped, getting up. 

 

Sam rolled his eyes as Dean walked to the table, probably to grab the remote. His brother’s ability to cheer him up never ceased to amaze him.        

 

________ 

  
  


It had been years since Sam learned about soulmates and why their bond put them in danger. They never really talked about it, especially around their dad, but the…  _ pull  _ had been getting stronger lately. 

 

Sam, being all of fourteen, had begun to take interest in the more advanced relationship of soulmates. In school now, he already knew one girl who found her soulmate. Anna never stopped talking about her soulmate and how much she loved him. Sam always had to bite back the jealousy that bubbled up in his chest at hearing it. He didn’t listen with a wistful smile like his other friends, who hadn’t found their soulmate yet. Because he  _ did  _ have a soulmate - but not one he could love. Not like that. 

 

It was a Friday that Sam had made up his mind. A thought had been teasing his mind for weeks but it was only when he saw Anna and James together, did he decide.   

 

He was waiting for Dean, who was late for getting detention, again. He had heard Anna call out to some guy before running up to him. Looking up, Sam could see a fairly tall guy with slicked black hair and sunglasses. He looked about seventeen, band shirt and ripped up jeans - so this must be the James that Anna always when on about. 

 

Funny, if he had listened to Anna, he would have imagined this guy to look like some sort of god. But, as he watched the ‘cool guy’ break into a genuine smile and pull his soulmate up for a kiss, Sam couldn’t help but think they did look perfect together. 

 

When Dean finally did show up, apologizing for the wait, Sam just waved him off. 

 

Dean talked a lot on the drive, which Sam was grateful for, as it gave him a chance to think. Dean was rambling on about some ‘stick-in-his-ass’ teacher that Dean had apparently cursed out. Nice, Sam would have to bitch about that later. 

 

Once they were in the motel room, Sam decided to throw his plan into action. 

 

“Dean?” Sam called out, lowering his voice a little. He did feel kind of bad for tricking his brother like he was about to, but there was no way he could come out and ask. Not for this.  

 

“Yep?” Dean asked, looking up from untying his shoelaces. 

 

“My - my eye hurts,” Sam said, his heart beginning to beat faster. Was he really about to do this? 

 

Dean immediately stood up, snapping right into big brother mode, as he always did when Sam was hurt. Even fake-hurt.  

 

“Which one?” Dean demanded, standing in front of him, and scanning his eyes, looking for any sign of hurt or redness. 

 

Sam’s breath caught for just a second, looking into Dean’s sparkling green eyes. 

 

Just as Dean leaned in closer, trying to get a better look, Sam grabbed the back of his neck and pressed his lips against his Dean. 

 

In that moment, the world stilled. Sam never imagined kissing someone could feel so good. It was just skin on skin after all...but, he felt so warm and an all-encompassing sense of _Dean_. The smell of leather, gunpowder, and mint filled his nose. Sam could taste the minty sweetness on Dean’s lips from the gum he liked. Sam could feel Dean’s hand rise on instinct, his palm resting just above Sam’s left hip. And for those few seconds - those glorious few seconds, Sam was in Heaven and no one could tell him differently. 

 

Much too soon, the light, floaty feeling was shredded as he was roughly pushed to the floor. 

 

Sam yelped as his backside hit the carpeted motel floor. 

 

“What the fuck, Sam?” Dean yelled out, backing up from his brother. “The hell was that?” 

 

“I-” Sam was lost for words. Didn’t Dean feel what he had? “You didn’t like it?” 

 

Dean looked conflicted - lost almost. Sam hated it. His brother was always so sure of himself, confident, some would even call him arrogant. Sam knew better though, he could see Dean for what - for who he truly was. But even still, he almost never wore insecurities around Sam. 

 

“Sam -” Dean said, his jaw clenching. “You’re fourteen years old.” 

 

“So?” Sam asked, genuinely confused on Dean’s train of thought. 

 

“I’m an adult Sam, you’re a kid - we can’t do shit like that,” Dean said, as if it should be obvious.      

 

_ Well, it’s now or never to bring it up, _ Sam thought to himself. 

 

“I thought those laws were different for soulmates,” Sam said softly, finally getting back to his feet. 

 

Dean looked like he’d just been slapped before a… dark look shadowed his features. 

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Dean -” 

 

“I said - shut up, Sam,” Dean’s tone hardened. “Just - just shut up.” 

 

Sam did. He couldn’t do much as he watched his brother grab his jacket and keys before sweeping out of the room. He could faintly hear the impala starting up outside as his brother left without another word to him. 

 

Looking around the empty room, Sam couldn’t help but feel like he failed somehow. 

 

_____________

 

Dean drove, he didn’t know exactly where he was driving to, but he didn’t let that stop him. They were actually in a nicer town than they were used to, but Dean didn’t have the mind to appreciate it at the moment.  

 

‘You didn’t like it?’

 

God, no. He fucking loved it. Despite his reputation as a lady’s-man, he had never kissed anyone before. Plenty of girls - and even a couple guys - had tried, but Dean brushed them all off. It just felt - wrong to Dean. 

 

Kissing Sam - well, it should have made him sick, but it didn’t. It just felt… right, perfect, just as things should be. 

 

Dean never really wanted to admit it, even in his own mind, that Sam was growing up to be a very handsome young man. His soft features were beginning to grow sharper, he was finally gaining some height, and his baby-fat was replaced by toned muscle. But his eyes - they stayed exactly the same. His big puppy-dog eyes that could melt even the evilest lunch lady’s heart, even if they couldn’t see the colour. But for Dean, Dean could see. He saw the blue and green swirling together, sparkling, hypnotizing, splashed with brownish golden - like a galaxy of their own and Dean could stare at them all day. 

 

And kissing his ever-soft lips felt good - too good. 

 

Dean had actually begun to come to terms with never having a soulmate relationship. It’s what he had to do, wasn’t it? His duty as a big brother. 

 

_ “Dean, come here, sit.” His father had called out, sitting down on the old couch in Bobby’s living room.  _

 

_ Dean made his way over. Sam was out at the moment, some geek book-run with Bobby, so he wasn’t really doing much.  _

 

_ “What’s up?”  _

 

_ “Dean,” John’s voice was grim. “I need to talk to you about Sam.” _

 

_ “What about him?” Dean said with a sigh. Sam and dad’s fights were really starting to pick up. Dean was almost positive his dad wanted him to talk to Sam about the importance of training, etc.  _

 

_ “About him being your soulmate.”  _

 

_ Dean’s eyes snapped up to his father’s. His dad hadn’t spoken about that in years, only to tell him about it and to tell him to keep tight-lipped about it.  _

 

_ “Dad-” _

 

_ “Just listen,” John interrupted. “I know you’re getting older, so is Sam. And well - you just can’t.”  _

 

_ “Get older?” Dean asked, confused. He really wasn’t used to his dad stumbling over words.  _

 

_ “You can’t have a romantic relationship with Sam, okay?” His dad demanded, not asked. “Nothing - no touching, no kissing, no nothing, got it?”  _

 

_ Dean was sure his face was beat-red by the end. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t ever thought about…  _

 

_ “But dad-” _

 

_ “No, Dean,” his dad’s voice was strong, absolute. “Look, it sucks that this happened to you boys, it does, that’s life. But Sam is still your brother over everything else. Your little brother for god’s sake. It’s your job to protect him and - you just protect him.”  _

 

_ “Yes, sir,” Dean said, jaw clenched and eyes to the side. What else could he say? Nothing John said was a lie, after all.   _

 

_ John didn’t say any more, just clapped Dean on the shoulder and got up. He left Dean with his less than pleasant thoughts and a heavy heart.  _

 

Dean punched the steering wheel before sucking in a deep breath. He shouldn’t take it out on Baby, she didn’t do anything. He sighed, easing up on the gas pedal, just realizing he was pushing even his own speed limit. 

 

It wasn’t fair. It  _ really, really _ wasn’t fair. Not even a little bit. 

 

But his dad was right, he was always right, at least about things like this… freaky things like them. 

 

He couldn’t be Sam’s soulmate, but he could still be his brother. 

 

He could still protect him, still love him in that way. 

 

When Dean got back to the motel room, he didn’t ask if Sam was okay. He knew he was, physically, at least. And mentally, well, there wasn’t much Dean could do about that. Not now. 

 

Sam ignored him for a while, but Dean suspected that was from embarrassment more than anger. Dean didn’t mind though, he deserved anything Sam threw at him. Because of him, Sam would never get to have what  _ he  _ deserved, a family - a soulmate to kiss. 

 

They didn’t speak about it again. 

 

___________________ 

 

Well, that last part wasn’t entirely true - they did speak about it again. Four years later. 

 

Sam had been stewing all day. Something was wrong - the standing hairs on the back of his neck told him that. For a while now, Sam had been getting more withdrawn, even from Dean. Dean tried his best to keep the contact to a minimum. It hurt less that way but it still hurt. The backlash of that was a depressed Sam and a generally pissed off Dean. 

 

And the fighting, god the fighting, was really starting to wear him down. Everyday - Sam and dad could fight over the colour of the damn sky. This morning it had started first thing. Dad had been discussing the mechanics of an upcoming hunt, gotten a fact wrong, and Sam corrected him (bitchy tone firmly in place), and that was the spark that started the wildfire. 

 

All day, it had been a back and forth. Dean tried to ignore it for the most part. He hated when they argued because all Dean wanted to do, all his instincts screamed at him to do, was stand in front of Sam and defend him on all accounts - even if he was wrong. But, he just wasn’t allowed to do that. He  _ hated  _ it. 

 

However, that spun on a dime when he heard the unmistakable sound of a fist slamming into drywall. Rushing into the main room, the sight that greeted him was not a pleasant one.  

 

Sam and dad were facing each other, yelling, voices overlapping, gesturing wildly. There was also a large hole in the wall next to his dad. Well, that answers that. 

 

“You think you can control-”

 

“I don’t know if you noticed, Sam, but I’m your fucking father-”

 

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m eighteen-” 

 

“You live under my-”

 

“Oh, fuck you-” 

 

“Samuel-”

 

“Don’t call me Samuel-” 

 

“Guys!” Dean tried - failed - to interject. “Guys, c’mon. Let’s not do this now.” 

 

“Look,” Sam took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself down Glancing at Dean once before looking back at their dad. “Look, I get that this - all of this is about mom.”

 

Dean drew in a sharp breath, oh Sam did it now. Even as his brother spoke, his father fell silent. Not out-of-words silent. Scary silent - lethal silent. 

 

“And I know that I don’t understand what it’s like to lose your soulmate,” Sam said, his tone even. “But I do know what it’s like to see your soulmate every fucking day and not be allowed to touch them.” 

 

Dean felt his chest tighten, his shoulders tingle with icy pin-pricks. The pain in Sam’s voice mirrored Dean’s own perfectly - and Dean couldn’t very well ignore it when Sam spelled it out like that. 

 

“And,” Sam continued, shaking his head, voice thick. “And I can’t. I can’t do it anymore, dad. I - I just  _ can’t _ .” Another deep breath. “So, I applied to a few different colleges and… I’m going.” 

 

_ No, _ was Dean’s first thought.  _ Please no _ . 

 

College for Sam had crossed Dean’s mind a couple times. His brother was fucking brilliant, why wouldn’t he want a higher education? But not like this. Dean always imagined Sam going after they killed The Demon. 

 

Actually, Dean liked to imagine their lives would finally start after it was dead. 

 

But he knew Sam didn’t think like that. Sam was a lot stronger than him and dad. 

 

Dean pictured checking out colleges online with his brother, he pictured driving there in the Impala together. Maybe getting drunk and playing cards before they went. He imagined embarrassing Sam at the dorm they checked out together, maybe messing up his hair or something. He imagined getting an apartment nearby and a daytime job, visiting with Sam every weekend and sometimes during the week. Texting “night” and “morning” every day so they both knew the other was okay. Because “night” meant “I’m okay, I’m not hurt or in the hospital and I want to make sure you’re okay too”.  

 

Dean didn’t imagine it happening like this. 

 

“Like  _ hell  _ you are,” John said, his tone low and his gray eyes dark, shadowed. 

 

“It isn’t your choice,” Sam said stiffly. “I’m going - in fact, I’m going tonight.” 

 

_ No.  _

 

“All I-” John said, his voice still low, but Dean could hear the building anger. “All I have ever done, I’ve done for you and your brother. God dammit Sam, don’t you fucking care your own  _ mother  _ was killed? Don’t you? Huh? Are you that goddamn selfish?”

 

“Of course I care,” Sam said. And he did, Dean knew he did if the tears in his voice were anything to go by. 

 

“Apparently not,” John huffed a humorless laugh. “Mary would be fucking disappointed.”     

 

Sam looked like he’d been slapped before a prideful fury overtook his expression. 

 

“No,” he said strongly, putting his shoulders back. Neither dad or himself really liked to admit it, but Sam was freakin’ tall. He went from midget to NBA basketball player in two years flat. He tended to slouch a little - but now he was standing at his full height, towering over their dad. “Mom would be disappointed in the in the drunk that endangered her children for the past eighteen years. Mom would be -” 

 

And that was as far as Sam got before Dean saw the subtle twitch in John’s fists. Years of sparring with their dad had taught Dean exactly what that meant. And fuck no was that happening.

 

Being as close as he was, Dean was able to grab his father by the shirt and slam him away from Sam. Dean then grasped his dad’s arm, his grip bruising. He hoped to god his father would get some brains and take his son seriously for once.  

 

“Don’t,” Dean said lowly, too low for Sammy to hear. He found his father’s gaze to convey how serious he was. “You wouldn’t win.” 

 

John’s fists clenched further, anger no doubt coursing through him. Dean knew the elder hunter understood the meaning. ‘You hurt Sam and I hurt you, whoever the hell you are’. John was good, damn good. He could probably take Dean and he could probably take Sam. But both of them? Not likely. Sam and Dean fought together in fluid communication, like a well-oiled machine, deadly. 

 

“Fine,” John said, shoving Dean off. “Fine, fucking fine. But you know what, Sam? We don’t need no dead weight. You walk out that god damn door, you don’t fucking come back.” 

 

Sam nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes shining. “Like I would want too.”    

And with that, Dean’s life crumbled around him. Watching his dad walk to the kitchen, watching Sam walk out that door, without a look back at his br - at his soulmate. 

 

~~~~

 

Later that night, Dean found Sam sitting on a cold bench beside the bus stop. 

 

“Hey,” Dean said softly, sitting beside his brother. 

 

All he heard was Sam’s shaky inhales, chest rising and falling. For several minutes, he just watched his brother. The kid he helped raise from a little baby. Dean once again wondered how Sam could be six-whatever and still look freaking five years old sometimes.   

 

After a while, Dean handed him the duffle bag he had thrown together, which his brother took with a grateful sigh. 

 

“You aren’t gonna stop me?” 

 

Dean had to laugh at the pure insanity of it all. “You’re going to  _ school  _ Sam, that ain’t a crime last I checked.” 

 

That made Sam smile, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah, just…” 

 

“So which one?”

 

Sam gave him a look. 

 

“School Sam,” Dean said, forcing a smile. “Which school are you going to?”

 

“Oh,” Sam breathed, his breath materializing like smoke. “Stanford.” 

 

Dean tilted his head, pride making him puff out his chest. Dean wasn’t too schooled on colleges, but he knew Stanford was a damn good one. 

 

“Is it, I mean are you doing a scholarship or...?” 

 

“Scholarship,” Sam said, pride finally entering his voice as well. “Full ride. I start in two weeks actually.”

 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, the action speaking louder than any words could. 

 

“Dean, I’m sorry-” 

 

“Don’t, Sam,” Dean interrupted. “You don’t haveta explain anything. This is your thing, your - path or whatever. I get it, really. Don’t be sorry, I’m not -” 

 

_ I’m not dad  _

 

“- going to be mad or anything. Just, there’s money in the duffle. Just be safe, Sammy.” 

 

“No Dean,” Sam said turning to him, pleading with those ridiculously gorgeous hazel eyes. “Come with me?” 

 

“Ah, Sammy,” Dean said, heart warmed but mind set. “You know I can’t. I still got work to do, little brother.” 

 

Sam nodded again, lips twitching downwards, trying so very hard to keep a grip on his wild emotions. “I know, De.” 

 

“You watch out for yourself, ‘kay?” 

 

“Thought that was your job,” Sam said, choking back tears. 

 

Dean pulled Sam into a hug, half for comfort, half because he just couldn’t look at those damn eyes anymore. If he did, he’d say fuck it all and follow Sam to the end of the earth. “Damn straight it is.” 

 

He heard Sam sigh, staying melted against him until the screech of the bus filled their ears. 

 

Sam pulled back slightly, their faces inches apart. Sam’s eyes conveyed more than his words ever could. His eyes conveyed need and an undeniable truth. And Dean, like always, could give Sam what he needed. Because Dean knew Sam wouldn’t go without a proper goodbye. Wouldn’t let himself be happy.

 

So Dean smiled, hand cupping Sam’s cheek and pulling their lips together. Unlike last time, Dean let himself enjoy it, fuck what anyone else thought. 

 

When the bus driver honked the horn, they finally pulled apart and Sam made a sad trek to the stairs.   

 

“Hey!” 

 

Sam’s head spun around at Dean’s yell. He gave a lopsided smiled, trying to ignore the tear tracks on Sammy’s cheeks.    
  


“I liked it,” Dean called, making Sam laugh one more time before he left.

 

He never realized, then, that it would be the last time he’d see Sam’s smile for four years.

 

~ O ~

 


	3. Upward Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who reviewed, so glad you guys like it so far!
> 
> Also, I’d like to make something a bit clearer - Sam does not have demon blood within him during this story and there are none of Azazel’s special children. This story will loosely follow the canon storyline, but the details will be much different. 
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes and thanks for reading!

 

**Chapter three: Upwards Rising**

_~_

_Show me a smile then_

 

_Don’t be unhappy_

 

_Can’t remember when_

 

_I last saw you laughing_

 

~ O ~

 

“Hmm, never really expected it to get this far.”

 

“No, my prince,” the demon bowed. “None of us did.”

 

The other casually rolled a knife between his fingers, a not-so-subtle display of power.

 

“They’re strong you know,” the man drawled. “It isn’t weakness that allows them to be apart - it’s incredible strength.”  

 

“Yes, my prince.”

 

“But it’s gone on for far, far too long.”

 

“Yes, my prince.”

 

“I need my child at full strength, in every regard.”

 

“Yes, my prince.”

 

“Hm,” the demon looked to the other then. The room was much too dark to see the other’s expression, but he knew the underling was afraid, so very afraid. Most thought that demons couldn’t feel fear - oh, how he loved proving them wrong. “I need your help for this one. You will do exactly as I instruct and not diverge from my words in the slightest.”  

 

“Y-yes, my prince.”

 

So afraid.

 

“Kill the girl.”

 

“Yes, my prince.”

 

____________________

 

“Did you sleep at all?” Dean asked, his voice was almost… hesitant. Like he was talking down a feral dog.

 

Sam sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands. Really, he didn’t want to get into this. Dean had been pushing little questions like this onto him every day. Each question was an offer of comfort and an understanding of pain.

 

But Sam didn’t want to dwell on his pain anymore, he wanted to celebrate his joy - however cut short it may have been.   

 

He couldn’t even express the bursting joy he felt when Dean entered his apartment.

 

_Laying there in bed, he could faintly hear the commotion below. His first thought was one of their friends breaking in to play a stupid prank or something. His second thought was of a break-in. That was the thought that pushed him to scope it out._

 

_But then, when he entered the same room as the trespasser, he could feel the smile spreading across his face. His eyes tracked the shadow; glanced over the open window._

 

_He could feel the excited tingling across his shoulders - the smell of leather and mint only further confirming what his body knew. Soon, he had felt breathtakingly familiar hands circling around him, yanking him back._

 

_Ah, so Dean wanted to play. Sam did, he fought back like he always did. Sam knew he was smiling the entire time, it felt like breathing again, sparring with Dean. Like he’d been stuck in a smoke-filled room for years and was finally allowed outside._

 

 _As it turned out, Dean still managed to pin him._  

 

_“Woah, easy tiger,” Dean was smiling wide, white teeth showing and - god, green eyes freaking sparkling. God, Sam missed that damn colour._

 

_“Dean,” Sam said, voice more of a breath. It felt good._

 

_“Looks like you’ve gotten a little soft there, Sammy,” Dean joked. Sam could see the humor, but also relief shining through his expression. His brother was relaxed, happy, and… probably feeling the exact same as he was._

 

_Sam then took the invitation for what it was and flipped his brother flat on his back._

 

_“Maybe not,” Dean grunted. “Let me up.”_

 

_Sam did. He stood, grabbed Dean by the arm and hauled him up. Dean brushed his oversized jacket off, his hand lingering in Sam’s before he pulled it back._

 

_“What are you-”_

 

_“What the hell’s going on?”_

 

_Both boys turned to face the new addition in the room. Jess was standing there in her nightshirt and panties, looking rather frazzled - well, it was three in the morning to be fair._

 

_“Uh, Jess,” Sam said, still breathing a little heavy. “Jess, this is my brother, Dean. Dean - this is Jess, my roommate.”_

 

_“Hiya,” Dean said, charming smirk right in place. “Sammy told me about a roommate, but he never said she looked like you.”_

 

_“Dean,” Sam sighed, too happy about being able to do this again to really reprimanding his brother._

 

“Sammy?” Dean asked again, pulling him from his memories.

 

“No…,” Sam shook his head. “I - uh, slept some, enough, I mean.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Dean said, taking a sip of the beer in his hand. Sam knew Dean wasn’t even close to convinced but he was grateful his brother didn’t press the issue.

 

A lot of people who met them thought that Dean hated talking through things, while Sam needed to. But, in all truth, it was the exact opposite. Dean was the one who needed to talk about things, so Sam pushed him to. Sam was the one who needed to think, so Dean let him. Not that Dean really liked it when Sam donned his ‘we’re talking’ face. In fact, Dean often complained, rather loudly, about the chick-flick moments Sam would induce.

 

“I think I found us a case,” Sam said, looking up at the other hunter. He’d been up almost all night, scouring the internet for even the slightest hint of a case. His skin had been itching with a burning need to do _something_.

 

Dean paused. “Yeah? What’s up?”

 

“I don’t know yet,” Sam said, trying to recall the blurry words he’d read. “Two girls went missing in this town, Langridge. Three months apart. One was found yesterday, dead, throat cut and wrists bound.”

 

“That’s all?”

 

“That’s all it said.”

 

“It sounds bad, Sam,” Dean nodded, looking at him, green eyes finding his. “But it doesn’t really sound like our thing, you know? It sounds like a police job.”

 

“We’ve gone on less before,” Sam argued.

 

“C’mon, Sammy, think about it,” Dean said, in that _tone,_ the one he _knew_ Sam hated. “She was bound, for one. She was found whole for another. It just - it just doesn’t scream monster to me.”

 

“Fine,” Sam huffed. “Let’s just let another girl die.”

 

“Sam-”

 

“I’m going out,” Sam said. It was true, Sam did need to get out. It felt like the walls were getting closer every minute he sat there. Sweat had started to perspire on his skin, making him feel clammy and hot.

 

Not even bothering to grab anything, Sam left. He didn’t really expect Dean to follow and he was glad he didn’t. He knew if Dean really pushed, he’d just break and he couldn’t do that now. Not while Jess’s killer was still out there. God, killer. Jess was dead, dead and gone and she would never come back.  

 

The best friend he’d ever had. Jess had been second only to Dean, his damn soulmate, in people who knew him, actually knew him. Jess was like his sister - she was the one who pushed him to parties, helped him with anything. She was the one there when it got really bad.

 

_“I can’t,” Sam said, voice shaky and vision blurry. “I just-”_

 

_“Sam,” Jess said, her kind eyes holding the anchor he needed. “Shut up. You’re fine, whatever you’re thinking - whatever you can’t do, you can. I know you can.”_

 

_“No,” Sam swallowed. “You don’t know.”_

 

_“Then tell me,” Jess said, frustration seeping into her voice. “Sam, you can’t just do this. Just tell me, please. I can’t help if I don’t know.”_

 

_Sam looked up at her. Taking in her long blonde curls, her light gray eyes, her face pinched in confused frustration. She was right, he knew. He couldn’t keep this up. His grades had been slipping, his sleep was just non-existent. But… what would she say?_

 

_Sam knew. She’d leave, she’d leave and she wouldn’t come back._

 

_But…_

 

_“My soulmate,” Sam confessed. “I miss him.”_

 

_“Oh,” Jess said, clearly taken aback. “I didn’t know you met your soulmate… I’ve haven’t seen him.”_

 

_Sam shook his head. “Neither have I, not in over a year.”_

 

 _“What?” Jess raised her voice, making Sam wince at the volume. “What the hell, Sam? You know how freakin' unhealthy that is? You can’t - you’re a_ **_law_ ** _student Sam. I know you learned how-how_ **_against_ ** _the law that is.”_

 

_“You don’t understand, Jess,” Sam said, looking down. “I… left him to come here - we both knew it’d be hard but, our dad isn’t…”_

 

_“What?” Jess asked, her voice breathy. “What do you mean ‘our’.”_

 

_“Jess.”_

 

Sam thought she’d leave, he’d been sure. But she didn’t, she was shocked. Sam _almost_ smiled remembering how pale she looked. But Jess, the angel she was, just laughed - albeit a little hysterically.

 

At first, Sam worried she thought he was joking. His worry was set to rest when she extended her leg and rolled up her pants. There, just above her ankle were the little black words written in fancy script:

 

**_A love with breath is a love undeserving of death_ **

 

God, Jess had really been one in a million.

_______________

 

Dean looked down at the empty bottle, absentmindedly picking at the peeling label. He knew Sam hadn’t been talking about the other missing girl. 

 

_‘Let’s just let another girl die’_

 

Yeah, that had Jess written all over it. Dean’s heavy gaze found the door. His brother was drowning, and for once, Dean held no answers.

 

__________

 

Azazel was having a lovely time. He did love it when plans, especially long-term plans came together so beautifully. Oh, how he did _love_ this family.

 

The mother - so full of spicy life and smoldering fire, no matter how far she fell in the end. Now _that_ had been a bit unexpected, but of no real matter.

 

Then, of course, there was the father. The father was the perfect little puppet. His hand had, unknowingly, damned both his sons to the service of Lord Lucifer. How the man had trained both little boys so wonderfully, breaking down their sweet innocence and building back the mask of a warrior.  

 

There was Dean, strong and loyal, willing to do anything for his precious little brother - even brave the depths of _Hell_.

 

The prince smiled wickedly.

 

Yes, precious little Sammy. So _pure_ and good. Wanting to become a lawyer and stand for the false justice of the world. So sweet.

 

Perfect.

 

Perfect, because soon, Sammy wouldn’t be nearly as sweet. Soon, Sammy would hold red eyes and silver wings. Soon, _Sammy_ would lead the armies of hell to march upon the righteous.  

 

Soon.

 

“My prince.”

 

Azazel narrowed his yellow eyes at the interruption. Turning slowly, he was faced with another worthless underling. Disgusting, yet necessary, he thought.   

 

“Why…,” Azazel started with controlled, but false calm. “Did you see fit to interrupt my thoughts?”

 

“M-my prince!” The demon quickly bowed, fast enough to give a human whiplash. “There - there has been a disturbance!”

 

Azazel rolled his shoulders. “Yes?”

 

“Zachariah is dead,” the demon rushed hastily. “We only just received word.”

 

Now that made Azazel stop. He froze, blinking quickly as he thought.

 

“When and by who?” He snapped.

 

“Just later - mere hours ago,” he said. “By-by one of his brothers, my prince.”

 

“ _Who?”_ Azazel’s tone was urgent, as the situation was becoming increasingly worse.

 

“Castiel, my prince.”

 

_____________________     

 

“Yes, sir,” Dean said - again.

 

Sam swore to god that if he said that one more time, he’d break that damn phone.

 

Their - no longer missing - father had just found the mind to call his sons. Sam hadn’t been quick enough to snatch the phone before Dean had grabbed it. As soon as he answered, Dean had repeated those two words at least five times. No questions, no ‘how’s it going’, just the dutiful ‘yes, sir’ of good little soldier.

 

Sam hated it. His brother was supposed to be animated, full of life and jokes - not the lifeless, empty machine their dad was so great at turning him into.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Oh that was it.

 

Sam lunged for the phone. Dean tried batting his brother’s hands away, but upon realizing Sam wasn’t letting up - and they’re scuffling was about to break the phone - Dean relented.   

 

“Dad?”

 

_“Sam?” He heard from the crackling phone._

 

“Yeah,” Sam said, trying to keep emotion vacant from his voice. This was the first time he spoke to his father in four years, after all. “What’s going on?”

 

_He heard a scoff. “Put your brother back on.”_

 

Sam really had to bite his lip on that one, he didn’t want to start a fight now, when he could be hung up on so easily. “No. Dad, we need to know. We’ve been here, hunting at the coordinates you sent us, not even speaking to you once. Dad - Dean was _dying_ a few weeks ago! You owe us.”

 

_Sam heard a sigh and some rustling papers. “Fine, put the damn thing on speaker.”_

 

Sam didn’t hesitate to do so.

 

_“Now both of you boys listen up.” John started. “The - dammit - the demons are getting restless. Twenty-eight cattle mutilations and fifteen electrical storms were reported around the US in the last two months alone. We’ve never seen this kind of activity before and - something's happening.”_

 

_There was a pause before they could hear a car revving. “I need you both to head to Singer’s.”_

 

“Bobby’s?” Sam asked, giving Dean a look when he shushed him.

 

_“Yeah, look, he’s expecting you, okay?” John said. “I’m gonna meet you boys there.”_

 

Sam couldn’t hold back a relieved sigh. Finally, he was getting some answers and they were meeting up.

 

“We’ll see you there, dad.” It was Dean this time. “Drive safe, yeah?”

 

_“Always,” John said. “You two look out for each other until I get there.”_

 

There was a click as the phone cut off. Sam was a bit disappointed he couldn’t say more, but it could wait, and plus, his father had never been much for goodbyes.

 

Sam knew he was smiling and was honestly surprised to find that Dean wasn’t. He was probably thinking about the demon activity. It was never good when demons got restless. It was almost always a sign of a brewing storm and Sam couldn’t help but think this was only the calm.

 

__________________

 

As it turned out, their father did _not_ meet them there, not that he ever intended to.

 

Sam had known as soon as he saw Bobby’s face, rough features highlighted by the unstable porchlight. That was always the face he made before delivering disappointing news. Sam had finally - he should have known it was way too good to be true.

 

Sam had sat, silent, through Bobby’s explanation. He’s fury raised to dangerous levels when Bobby mentioned dad had a lead on _the_ fucking demon. Sam could feel the boiling blood pulsing underneath his veins, whispering threats of eruption. Sam had stormed out of the house into the cold winter night, only vaguely aware of his brother trailing behind him. Probably to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, like hotwire a car and go after their father. Which, in Sam’s mind right then, wasn’t such a bad idea.     

 

“Dammit!”

 

“Sammy-”

 

“ _Don’t_ ‘Sammy’ me, Dean!” Sam fumed, absolutely furious.

 

He had thought he was finally going to be treated like an adult, an equal. But apparently not! No, like always everybody knew the plan except him. Dad, Bobby, even Dean - he didn’t want to hear any of them right then. Not one word of their excuses. He was 22 years old for crying out loud - he was a hunter, he was trained, he could fight yet everyone insisted on treating him like a clueless five-year-old. They thought they could just pat him on the head and all would be great - well not this damn time.   

 

“You knew,” Sam accused his brother, eyes narrowed. Sam glared at a piece of scrap metal nearby, really having to contain the urge to kick it.  

 

At least Dean had the decency to look guilty, his green eyes looking away briefly. “I just-”

 

Sam gave a breathy, humorless laugh. “Dad’s chasing _the_ demon, Dean. The one that killed mom and Jessica. Don’t you want to be a part of that?”

 

“Of course I do Sam,” Dean said, his voice passionate and almost… hurt, that his brother might think otherwise. Sam couldn’t see Dean’s face that well in the dark, but he could read his voice just as well.  

 

“Then why?” Sam asked, desperately.

 

“Look, Sam,” Dean said, running a hand through his short hair. “I care about killing that son of a bitch, you don’t even know. That thing’s been ruining our lives since you were six months old and - I’d give almost anything to see it dead.”

 

“Then-”

 

“But I wouldn’t give you,” Dean said, his voice holding finality. The voice of a man with a stone-set mind. “Dad hasn’t always been the best. Despite what you might think, I’m not blind to dad’s faults - I’m _not_. But anything - everything dad’s done has been to keep you safe. He knows how to do that, Sam, even - even when I don’t. I have to trust that. I have to keep you safe so if that means letting that dad deal with it, then he deals with it.”

 

Sam understood that. He really did. Dean’s words were like water, soothing the fire within his skin. He knew, firsthand, how far his brother would go for him because he’d go just as far. Sam can remember times on hunts where Dean was hurt and he just stopped being himself. His logic, his compassion, his reasoning - it all left to make room for overwhelming protectiveness, rage, and love.

 

“I’m not a child, anymore, Dean,” Sam said, his tone much softer.

 

“I never protected you ‘cause you were a child.” Dean shook his head. “When are you gotta get it, Sammy?”

 

“Get what?”

 

Dean chuckled. “C’mere, Sam.”

 

Sam narrowed his eyes, just a little, as he followed his brother. Dean weaved his way through the familiar field of broken cars until they met the one that stood out among them all. The Impala shimmered with moonlight as Dean sighed and leaned against the hood. Sam copied him.    

 

They were sitting close, knees touching as he watched his brother’s expression. He was waiting for the ‘Dad just’ speech, but it never came.  

 

“Look,” Dean said, nodding to the sky. “You were born in the month of the bull. That’s it, right there, you see? The brightest star there is called Aldebaran, weird name, I know. Taurus is actually one of the oldest constellations, known for stubbornness, ha. Right there, next to it, is Gemini, the twins…”

 

That was something about Dean that not a lot of people knew - he loved stars. He loved the old lore and the symbolism in them.

 

Sam allowed his mind to drift and calm as Dean recited the familiar sequence of stars and their constellations.

 

Dean was smart - another thing that people didn’t know. Dean actually loved to read, loved to learn, but he’d hide it. He grew up in an environment where he was forced into the role of protector, guardian to a much younger child. He couldn’t be seen as weak in any regard. Usually, just the sight of him, rugged looks, ripped jeans, beaten leather jacket and bands shirts, was enough to scare off anyone who’d harm them.

 

Sam hated that Dean was forced to give up his talent so Sam didn’t have to. But one thing he didn’t give up was stars. Sam could remember many a time of his childhood were Dean would shake him awake and lead him outside to look up at the twinkling stars. Sam could still remember the first time the Taurus constellation was visible.

 

They stayed there, laying on the cool hood of the Impala for hours, just watching the sky.

 

Dean would never admit anything so sappy, but Sam sometimes wondered - perhaps a bit arrogantly - if Dean’s love of stars held root with him. Sporadically, Sam would catch Dean looking at his eyes, then the stars, then his eyes - back and forth before he’d smile and lean back. He wondered if Dean was comparing the two.

 

The thought made him smile.      

 

“Dean,” Sam said, long after Dean stopped speaking. “It’s nearly morning.”

 

“I love you, Sam,” Dean said, turning to look at him. His eyes large and green and begging him to understand the unspoken. “I _love_ you.”

 

“I know, Dean.”

 

Sam understood what his brother was saying, even if Dean couldn’t elaborate. Dean had always been a romantic person, yet that was another innocent trait squashed under the boot of their father.

 

It brought him back to that one time - he was like eight years old and his class was having a valentines ‘dinner’. Parents were supposed to come and they’d just have a fun time. Dean promised to be there and bring marshmallow covered mac ‘n cheese (none of his friends believed his brother actually made him that).     

 

But, like always, there was another job, another town to save, so they left two days before the event. And in such a purely ‘Dean’ fashion, Dean set up a whole spread just for him. They didn’t have much, but Dean made the mac ‘n cheese, marshmallows, milk, and two slices of pie. Along with a lit ritual candle to top it off. Sam can remember how damn proud Dean was. 

 

And how disappointed and crushed he was when their father ruined it. Their father came back, early, to find his sons sharing a candlelit Valentine's dinner. Neither boy even thought of it romantically, but the implication was enough.

 

A few minutes later, the spread was swept off the table and the two very confused boys were sent to bed.

 

That was another thing they never talked about, especially now that they understood why their father acted as he did.     

 

 _Not that it should make a difference_ , Sam thought bitterly.

 

Yes, Sam knew the that his brother couldn’t say _how_ he loved him, he probably would never be able to. Dean needed an out, needed to say ‘I didn’t mean it like _that_ ’. Sam didn’t quite understand that, but he respected it and didn’t question it.

 

They left the old car lot soon after that, saying not a word as the silence was already too loud. Deafening. 

 

__________

 

“Research, greeeat,” Dean said flatly, tossing another old book on the desk. Sam had gone to re-paint the wards, so apparently, he was now on book-boy duty.  

 

“Oh, hush, boy,” Bobby rolled his eye. “It ain’t that bad.”

 

“Why can’t the geek do this?”

 

That earned him a glare.

 

“What?” Dean defended. “He’s weird, he… _likes_ research.”  

 

Dean gave a false shutter, before grinning. He liked bantering with Bobby, though it was more of _him_ bantering and Bobby glaring at him this time. He was pretty sure Bobby was a touch under the weather - not that the old hunter would ever admit it.  

 

He didn’t really know why, but he always found Bobby really easy to just be around. He was the kind of person who didn’t really care who did what and why as long as his TV worked and the fridge had beer.

 

He was also the only other person, besides Sam, dad, and himself that knew about the whole soulmate thing.

 

Dean didn’t exactly know how, but he did know Bobby’s soulmate died years ago. Bobby never once talked about her, but Dean had found an old picture of a kind-looking raven-haired woman. It was clearly an older picture and the woman was smiling with a white flower in her hand. But, the most heartbreaking part of the picture was that her eyes were coloured in with a green marker. Dean couldn’t even imagine…

 

“Hey Bobby,” Dean said. “Guess what?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh, come on.”

 

Bobby sighed, setting his book down and looking up expectantly. “Yeah?”

 

“I took Sam stargazing last night.”

 

Bobby smiled, just like Dean knew he would.

 

“Showed him Taurus?”

 

“Well, it is winter,” Dean nodded. “Best time to see it.”

 

“Yeah,” Bobby said.

 

Dean turned around again to get another book. He did like talking to Bobby. God, if he ever told his _dad_ that he took Sam stargazing. Ah, an _actual_ shutter ran down him that time.

 

Dean knew his brother was upset, but in a way, Dean was actually relieved that their dad sent them away for this one. He wished it hadn’t involved lying to Sam but-

 

“Dean,” Bobby spoke again. “You know what?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I think you should take Sam stargazing again tonight.”

 

Dean turned around, his brow pinched. Was it just...

 

“Why? I mean, I think we-”

 

“I think you should, Dean.” Bobby’s tone was insistent… almost pushy. “In fact, you really shouldn’t have left.”

 

“What?” Dean said. His hunter mind worked before the rest of him caught up. _No gun, one knife in his boot, cornered_ \- it supplied. “Bobby?”

 

“You _really_ shouldn’t have, Dean.” Bobby almost whispered.    

 

Then, something impossible happened. Bobby’s eyes flashed sharp blue. It was… unnerving and utterly shocking to even a hunter like him. He felt like his blood had frozen… he’d never seen the colour of anyone’s eyes - except Sam’s.

 

He knew demons had black eyes, he’d never actually seen one, but still… this was different.

 

 _Gun, taped under the desk_ , his hunter’s mind urged.

 

He silently willed Sam to stay put, if he hadn’t - _no, do not think that way._ Sam’s fine, there wasn’t another option.

 

Dean suddenly lurched into a run, intent on the gun in the desk - he was close - he heard a laugh and then -

 

It was white.

 

~ O ~


	4. The Beginning of The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who liked/reviewed/read! You guys are awesome and I’m so glad you like the story so far. Please forgive any mistakes and enjoy :)

**The Beginning of the End**

 

_This world makes you crazy_

 

_And you've taken all you can bear_

 

_Just call me up_

 

_'Cause I'll always be there_

 

* * *

 

Dean groaned. His head held a familiar ache, his eyes stinging. It took him a few moments to realize he was laying in a bed - or a couch maybe? Dean groaned again, last night was either awful or awesome… either way, Sammy was going to -

 

Dean’s eyes snapped opened against the burning light. Dean registered that he was in an unfamiliar environment. He was, indeed, on a couch - he looked around, blinking the water from his eyes. Where the hell were Sam and Bobby? Where the hell was he?

 

“Have no fear, Dean.”

 

Dean snapped up again, propelling himself up with his arm and locking onto the other man in the room. Dean’s eyes narrowed, half in suspicion, half because the overhanging light hurt.  

 

There was a guy standing on the other side of the room, looking ruffled but… professional in a standard business suit and tan trench coat. He had pale-ish skin, black hair… and… and blue eyes. What. The. Hell.   

 

“Who are you?” Dean asked, his voice gruff from sleep - or unconsciousness rather.

 

He forced his eyes to scan the rest of the room. Vaguely he noted they were alone. The room was also rather beautiful. Twinkling chandeliers cast light down on the well-kept furniture and tables, which were lined with fruits and wine. Plants crawled the walls, flowers scenting the room with fresh cleanliness. But, despite how pretty it was, there was an eerieness about it. A sense of wrong that clung to the air and poisoned the atmosphere - it looked like a set, it didn’t feel _real_.       

 

“Castiel,” the man said simply.

 

Right, ‘cause that cleared everything up. Dean looked the man up and down, he didn’t _seem_ to be playing with him, like many monsters did. He seemed, surprisingly genuine in his words and demeanor.  

 

“ _What_ are you?” Dean tried instead. Consciously, Dean rose from the couch, eyes never leaving the monster. But - he didn’t really get the ‘I’m about to tear out your throat and eat your heart’ vibe from this guy. In fact, he seemed much more curious than threatening.   

 

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Casi-whatever said, with an impressively straight face.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, unimpressed. “And I’m the freakin’ tooth fairy.”

 

The man scrunched up his eyes and tilted his head.

 

“No, you aren’t,” he said, his tone very serious, like a doctor talking to a crazy patient. “I believe that rogue fae was killed by a hunter months ago.”  

 

Great, he was dealing with an actual idiot.  

 

“Right, whatever,” Dean caved,  he didn’t have time for this. He’d let the man pretend he was the damn second coming if it got him to Sam. “What happened to Sam and Bobby?”

 

“Of course,” Castiel said, nodding. “My apologies. Your friend and your soulmate are completely uninjured, I assure you.”

 

Dean froze. This guy… he just referred to Sam as his soulmate.  What in seven fucks was going on here?

 

“How…,” Dean asked warily. This added a whole new layer to the problem. Was it blackmail this guy was after? Dean knew he had to be more careful now. “How’d you know that?”

 

“Well, Hannah told me they were, I could check personally but I trust her expe-”

“No, no, no,” Dean crossed his arms in the universal ‘time out’. “How did you know about… about me and Sam? And why the hell can I see your eyes?”

 

“I would have explained if your self-delusion of being a fae hadn’t interrupted.”

 

Right.

 

“As I stated, I am an angel, therefore I am soulless and without a lifemate,” he said. “I harbor only grace, which is visible to humans in diluted form. Many angels have different coloured grace - mine happens to be blue so you perceive my eyes to be that colour. As to your first question, all angels know of you and your brother.”

 

Obviously. Dean blinked once, then again.

 

“What happened?” Dean demanded, forcing himself to harden his voice. He was a hunter - he was trained to _accept, adapt, move on_. And when you couldn’t adapt or make sense of a situation you shoved it away and focused on the larger problem.

 

“My sister, Hannah, possessed the one you call Bobby to-”

 

“Possessed?” Dean said, and yes, his voice may have gone up an optic, so what. “I thought _demons_ possessed people.”

 

“Both angels and demons perform possession to interact with humans, Dean,” Castiel said, patiently. “However, angels must have the consent of the human before they may possess them.”

 

“Bobby would never-,”

 

“It’s amazing,” Castiel said, definitely quieter now. “What a person would do when faced with their long-dead soulmate.”

 

“You son of a bitch,” Dean said. He was furious on Bobby’s behalf, but he had to stay on task. “Where’s Sam?”

 

“Sam is where you left him,” Castiel said. “However, it’s not important right now.”

 

“Look, Castiel.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted. “You have asked every question expect ‘why’. May I explain why you are here?”

 

Dean didn’t want to agree with his captor on anything, but he did want to know. He breathed a little easier, hearing Sam was fine. Probably having a grade A fit, but fine. Well, that was if this guy could be trusted. Dean quickly worked out that this must the ‘boss’ of whatever was happening, as he had apparently sent another - Hannah - to do his dirty work.

 

“Go ahead,” Dean said, shrugging. Best not show to much interest.

 

Castiel nodded. “Dean, I understand that many concepts are difficult to grasp at the moment. I know you don’t believe me when I say I’m an angel, but I am. Angels, demons, likely every myth you’ve read has roots in truth. There is a biblical apocalypse darkening our horizon, Dean. The horsemen have mounted and the saviors have been chosen with heavenly fire. The wheels of the end have turned and the angels have risen to claim the sword.”

 

Dean got about half of that. “Awesome. When are you taking me back to my brother?”

 

“You misunderstand,” Castiel said. “You, Dean Winchester, are the sword of Heaven and shall champion as our savior.”

 

Dean’s gaze locked onto the - angel’s. He still didn’t understand exactly what this man was talking about, but he did understand that he wasn’t getting anywhere. He had to play this game, but first, if only for his own mind, he needed to know if this was a game at all.

 

“You’re an angel, huh?” Dean said, purposely injecting a challenge into his voice. “Prove it.”

 

Castiel didn’t smile, but a look of… something akin to it ghosted his face. He took a step back and closed his eyes. The lights flickered, pulling shadows around the room like puppets. Castiel opened his eyes, only for them to glow with blue fire, his shoulders rolled back and rogue, stormless lightning flashed across the room, silhouetting…

 

Two wings.

  


Two huge, encompassing black wings that spanned the entire length of the back wall. The shadowed wings folded in a few feet before extending to the full capable wingspan of - well, an angel. Two black feathers fell softly to the ground, somehow making the wings feel aged - battle-worn and _powerful_.  

 

Slowly, the lights returned to their normal constant and the shadow faded into light. The glow of Castiel’s eyes dimmed until they were back to their ocean colour. Castiel then raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘believe me now?’

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Sam felt alone. He hated that feeling, truly and deeply loathed it.

 

He had returned to the house, only to find his brother gone and Bobby passed out on the floor. When the older hunter came to, he had very little explanation for Dean’s sudden disappearance. All he said was they were hunting a monster that could shape-shift _and_ possess people, but not a demon. Sam was at a complete loss. He had a feeling that Bobby was holding something back, but he trusted the man to tell him if it was truly important.   

 

Sam had called their dad, about a hundred times, leaving just as many voicemails with no results. When he tried Dean’s cell, it just rang from the coffee table. Sam was desperately trying to figure out the ‘why’ in Dean’s capture.

 

_“The most essential tool you have is your mind and your ability to figure out the whys. Every single crime has one and only one constant - a motive. Now, motives can vary, of course, but there is a motive in everything we do. If you find the motive, you find the criminal.”_

 

Professor. Brooke had gone on and on about motives for the entire length of Sam’s Stanford career. Sam almost wished he could send the guy an email like he used to, asking for advice. He still had his professor’s last email to him saved on his phone, asking if he was okay, when was he coming back, does he need anything…

 

Sam was not a solitary person, but he would and did trade every friend he had for his brother and now he didn’t even have him. Bobby had been out of it since Dean was taken, but he had put a hunter APB out and was doing his own research at the local library.

 

Sam ran a hand down his face, pushing away the nagging thought of drinking. That was his father’s and brother’s coping mechanism and he needed to be firing on all cylinders then.

 

Sam was about to go grab another book that would be absolutely useless before a ringing stopped him. Turning, he eyed his vibrating phone, his eyebrows snapping up as he read ‘Dad’ across the small screen. Snatching it up, Sam flipped it open and pressed it against his ear.

 

 _“_ Dad-”

 

_“Hey Sammy,” the other voice said, definitely not his father. This was a woman’s voice and not a friendly one by the tone._

 

“Who the hell are you and where’s my dad?” Sam demanded.

 

_“Hmm,” the woman said. “I’m hurt, Sammy, don’t you remember me? Oh, come on, you know you recognize me.”_

 

“I don’t,” Sam ground out. The voice did have a fleeting ring of familiarity, but he couldn’t place it. 

 

_“I’ll give you a hint - sexy short hair, truck-hopping daredevil.”_

 

“...Meg?” Sam asked, pleading to be wrong.

 

_“The one and only, Sammy,” she said. “Now, listen and if you’re a good little boy, you might just get your pretty big brother back.”_

 

“I’ll kill you,” Sam promised. “If Dean doesn’t first.”

 

_“Is that really how you talk to the demon holding a knife to your brother?”_

 

“What do you want?” Sam asked, cool dread wrapping it’s long fingers around his stomach and pulling him into a sense of despair. “And where’s my dad?”

 

_“I want you. 4509, Washington Road, Bakersville, South Dakota. You be there by three or Dean pays the price,” the demon said, and Sam could almost hear the sick smile. “And Sammy? You’ll never see your father again.”_

 

_Click._

 

Sam breathed, tried to control the rapid breaths ripping through him. He was still shaking with both anger and fear as he dialed Bobby’s number. 

 

He pressed the wrong buttons twice before he got it right, after rapidly filling in the other hunter, Sam closed the phone and went to pour a drink.

 

He didn’t pour enough to really do anything more than ease the tension slightly - he had a feeling he’d need it.

 

Sam willed Bobby to hurry, it was already one o’clock and Sam knew Bakersville was at least a two-hour drive.

 

Still, there were a million questions floating around his mind, when confronted each question would break into two more and nothing would be answered. Sam couldn’t grasp why his family was so cursed - had he offended some deity in a past life? Not that Sam believed in reincarnation but - that was totally beside the point.

 

It always seemed that when the bad hit, it hit hard and didn’t stop until they were completely shattered.

 

“Sam.”

 

Sam turned to see Bobby standing in the doorway, face flushed from his obvious hast. By the clock, Sam could tell Bobby speed the entire drive here. Not that he was going to complain.

 

“Bobby, we have to go,” Sam said, rising to grab his jacket and messenger bag.

 

“Now wait a damn minute,” Bobby said. “Let’s be at least halfway smart about this.”

 

“What?” Sam dismissed. “We need to go now if we want to meet Meg’s deadline, now she never mention coming alone but I think I’d be best-”

 

“Sam,” Bobby interrupted. “Just listen, would you? You said that Meg called herself a demon, right? Well, I know demons and what took your brother was no demon.”

 

“So she got something else to do her dirty work, so what?” Sam said. “Demons do that, you know.”

 

“No,” Bobby shook his head. “This doesn’t feel right, Sam. Meg made a point to meet you personally - why? And if she wanted you, why’d she take or _have_ Dean taken? Why not snatch you and skip off?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “I know this is a trap, she told me that. But she says she has Dean and she definitely has - has dad. And even if she doesn’t have Dean, she damn well knows who does. I can feel it, Bobby.”

 

“Still don’t like it,” Bobby said, grabbing an unopened beer from the table and exiting the room, stopping only to look over at Sam. “You comin’, boy?”

 

Sam smiled, wondering how he and Dean survived the last few years without Bobby. The other hunter had begun loading the car with weapons while Sam set about looking up directions to this meeting place. Apparently, it was some old warehouse.     

 

 _How original_ , Sam thought dryly. Sam couldn’t think about the last line Meg told him.

 

He and his father may have not always gotten along, but he did love him. He knew what losing a soulmate did to people and he knew that he and Dean could have had it a lot worse. Everyone has the capacity to love. Those who have never known real love, have a very small part of their heart to fill and even the slightest summer love can make them impossibly happy. But the love of a soulmate… it carves itself into every part of your being, making your entire happiness lean on one other soul - the fire of that love keeps you happy even in the darkest times. For that fire to be gone and that enormous hole to be empty - Sam couldn’t even imagine.

 

In order to feel that amount of unimaginable happiness, one had to make themselves vulnerable to sadness in equal measure.    

 

John may not have raised him like Dean did, but he did protect him in his own right. John may not have always been the best parent, but he never raised a hand to him. There were a few times he came close but… He just couldn’t think about all that right now. They had work to do first.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do I really have to explain how much that isn’t going to happen again?” Dean threw out. He was pacing the room, his hands itching to grab a weapon he knew he didn’t have.

 

Castiel, the bastard, didn’t even seem fazed by Dean defiance or sarcasm. “If it would please you to do so.”

   

“It would _please_ me to get the hell back,” Dean growled.

 

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible at this time.”

 

“You know what?” Dean turned on the angel. “You sound like a broken check-out machine.”

 

Castiel, again, didn’t even seem to understand he was being insulted. He just stood there with his ridiculously crooked coat and perpetually perplexed look on his face.

 

“Look, man,” Dean said, schooling his tone to be more civil. “I’m telling you, you got the wrong guy, okay? Believe me, I’m not righteous in anyone’s book. Much less _God’s._ ”

 

“I disagree,” Castiel said, his tone responding to Dean’s and softening as well. “In fact, you should be grateful for this turn of events, Dean.”

 

Dean snorted, “that right?”

 

Castiel nodded solemnly, “If Zachariah had been followed, the great plan would involve you spending years in Hell.”  

 

Dean’s eyes flicked up, because yeah, that kind of got to him.

 

“Dean,” Castiel said. “You are the righteous man. All you must do is destroy the Four Horsemen and collect their rings then give them to us.”

 

“And why would I do that?”

 

“So a weapon may be released and _we_ can end the apocalypse once and for all before it even starts,” Castiel said. “I cannot directly interfere but I can act as a source of guidance and information.”

 

“So what,” Dean started. “I-I do this and I get back to Sam?”

 

“I swear it,” Castiel vowed.

 

“When?” Dean asked after a beat of silence, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “When would this fight go down?”

 

“It isn’t a fight as much as a hunt,” Castiel said. “Swear to me you will complete this task and I shall send you back to your soulmate.”

 

Dean’s eye twitched at Sam’s title. “I swear on my-”

 

“Sam’s.”

 

“What?”

 

“You must swear on your soulmates life,” Castiel said, his tone soft but final. “His life means much more to you than your own. And know this Dean, a swear to an angel is just as binding as a deal with a demon.”   

 

Dean hesitated. He had no clue what a Horsemen was, no idea how to kill it, and no way of knowing if this was even a good thing. He couldn’t just put Sam’s life on the line because some dude with flashy wings spun a story.

 

“Nah,” Dean said. “Sorry, buddy, but Sam’s life ain’t up for grabs.”

 

“Very well,” Castiel said and turned away. Some might think it was a subtle show of power, but Dean saw it more as… hiding, which confused him. “But as we speak your brother is marching into battle against a horde of demons.”  

 

Dean snapped into place, striding to the angel and ganking him around by the shoulder. His eyes held fire and he wanted Castiel to see that.   


“What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Your brother and your friend are going to die within ten minutes if I don’t intervene.”

 

“Then you fucking intervene!” Dean’s voice rose steeply. He couldn’t believe he’d been chatting it up while Sam was in danger. “You said he was safe, you fucking liar.”

 

“He was safe when I stated he was,” Castiel said calmly. “And he will stay safe if you swear.”

 

Dean couldn’t - too many variables. Was Sam actually in danger? But what if he was and Dean did nothing.

 

“Sam first,” Dean said desperately, “We save Sam first and then I swear - just, we save Sam _first._ I swear on _that_.”  

 

Castiel seemed to considered, which pissed Dean off because they were down to nine minutes. “I suppose that would be reasonable.”

 

Dean didn’t have time to respond before Castiel touched his forehead and white light overtook once him again.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam knew the meeting was a trap, but he didn’t expect this. In all of Sam’s hunting experience, he’d never actually faced a demon. Much less five.

 

He and Bobby stood accusingly vulnerable in the middle of the warehouse. They were armed with guns that did nothing against demons and exorcisms that were too long to be effective.  

 

Meg was standing in front of them, her blood red lips pulled into a self-satisfied smirk. Sam’s father was laying on the ground near her feet, but his chest was still rising and falling, easing a degree tension from Sam’s shoulders. There was a spot of dark blood over his chest but it obviously didn’t hit anything vital. Sam noted that they’d need to take him to the hospital when they got out. If they got out.

 

Two demons flanked Meg on either side and two demons were standing guard at the door, completely boxing them in.  

 

Just one thing was missing. The most important damn thing.

 

Dean was nowhere to be found.

 

“Where the hell is my brother,” it wasn’t a question.

 

“No idea,” Meg said, flippantly. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we started without him.”

 

“You lying bitch,” Sam said his tone low and dangerous as he took a step forward.  

 

“What’d you expect?” Meg tapped her nose. “I _am_ a demon after all.”

 

“Sam,” Bobby’s voice drew his attention. Sam knew what he was trying to convey without words - they weren’t muscling their way out of this one. Sam also understood one of the most staple rules of hunting - if you can’t fight run and if you can’t run, stall until you can. Meg was clearly on a mission but she didn’t seem overly concerned with time.

 

Her stance was lazy, confident. Her eyes were the false gray of her vessel’s but the colour seemed darker than it should have been. They wrinkled at the edges with her smile - like she knew she won and for all Sam knew, she had.

 

“I believed you,” Sam said, forcing himself not to look at his father. That would not only show weakness but give Meg more power in drawing her attention to the incapacitated man. “I knew it was all a setup but I believed you had Dean. Tell me, how did you know he was missing?”

 

“Hm,” Meg said. “That’s sweet, Sam. You know, I’ve heard you were the more… sensitive of the Winchesters.”

 

“That was your mistake, I guess,” Sam said, he could feel sweat beading on his neck but he refused to show any weakness to the demon. He needed to keep her hooked. He knew that _she_ knew he was stalling with abandon. But if he could keep the conversation laced with truth and a truth she would fear - he could buy some time. He also couldn’t help but notice she blatantly avoided his question.  

 

“What?” Meg’s eye twitched, obviously disliking the natural curiosity Sam’s statement invoked.

 

“Well, I mean,” Sam swallowed, calm, he reminded himself. “Dean isn’t here, right? But I am here and he’ll come for me - then kill you.”

 

There was one second, one second that Meg paused, a looking flashing too quickly for him to decipher. One second, but then she laughed and shook her head. But Sam could tell it rattled her, if only for a second. It might not have been the words, she probably didn’t fear Dean in the slightest - it was the unimaginable confidence in Sam’s voice. Because Dean _always_ came for him, even when he really shouldn’t - even when it wasn’t worth it. And Sam knew he always would.

 

“Sure,” Meg said. “Now, Sam, I did have a reason for calling you here.”

 

“And that would be?” Sam schooled his features into the cool mask of indifference that his brother and father adopted so often. “‘Cause so far all you’ve been is a _lying bitch._ ”

 

Meg twitched her head, appearing amused. “True, but-,”

 

Meg paused and flicked her eyes up as if she was listening to a sound he couldn’t hear. Sam glanced at Bobby, noting the confusion on his face before turning back to Meg. Her lips parted suddenly right before bright white light filled the room.

 

Then several things happened at once, Meg screamed - a horrible screeching sound, and Sam felt his ears pop. Light burned his eyes and he pressed his forearm against them to lessen the impact. Sam thought he might have blacked out for a moment. Someone was yelling… something and Sam strained to understand the jumbled words. He heard Bobby yell something he couldn’t make out before he adjusted his hold on his gun. He pushed himself off his knees and into a standing position. Still without the slightest clue of what was going on, Sam forced his eyes open and was met with a battle scene.

 

Sam immediately zeroed in on the figure rushing towards him - intense green eyes met his as strong hands grabbed his shoulders. Sam didn’t realize how much he needed the support until he had it. He was confused to the point he just accepted his brother had magically appeared to save his lame ass. For all he knew Dean argued with the freakin’ universe until it zapped him where he wanted to go.

 

“Dean,” Sam gasped out. “What the-”

 

“They’re dead.”

 

Sam spun to the gravelly voice he didn’t recognize. Instantly straightening from Dean’s hold and raising his gun. His vision was still slightly blurred from the unnaturally bright light but he could make out the figure of a man. “Who…”

 

“This is Castiel,” Dean said, laying a hand on his shoulder, his voice rough. Gently, Dean pressed his hand over the gun and pushed it down, signaling that Sam didn’t need it.     

 

Sam blinked, Dean didn’t see man as an active threat so he allowed his gaze to wander. His eyes flickered to Bobby, who wore a mixture of relief, apprehension, and disbelief. His gaze went to his father next, finally realizing he wasn’t being guarded and Sam rushed to him - or tried to.

 

Before he could Dean grip on his shirt stopped him. He looked back at his brother with a ‘what?’ look. The expression invading his brother’s face poured ice in his veins. Dean shook his head just slightly, his green eyes wet but controlled. Dean's shoulders were set, his teeth clenched and the muscle in his jaw twitching. Sam felt his breathing speed up because he _knew_ that look and he had to be reading it wrong, he _had_ to be.       

 

“Dean,” Sam said, his voice weak. “Dean.”

 

“Sammy, we got-”

 

“He was breathing,” Sam said, panic bleeding into his tone. “Just a minute ago he was - he was breathing.”

 

“He was possessed,” the other guy, Castiel, spoke again. Sam didn’t even look at him.

 

“Look at the bullet wound,” Bobby said, his tone softer than he’d ever heard it before. “No one could survive that, boy.”

 

“No,” Sam choked, rebelling against the truth setting deep in his skin. “No.”

 

“We need to leave,” Castiel spoke yet again. “More demons will come and I can’t shield you all while fighting them.”

 

Dean nodded solemnly, grabbing Sam’s wrist and pulling.

 

“I,” Dean said. Sam knew he was unsure, he knew he wanted direction, he knew he wanted to fall apart, be he couldn’t. He needed to stay strong so Sam could too. They were both acting as each other’s strength - they didn’t stay strong because they wanted to, they did it so the other could.

 

“You go ahead with the Impala,” Bobby instructed, seeing the need for a leader and easily slipped into hunter-mode, even if his tone wavered and his hands shook. “Get back to my place and I’ll jump a car and follow.”

 

 _with your father,_ was left unsaid.

 

Dean nodded and grabbed Sam tighter, leading him away from the whole scene. Castiel was silent, he didn’t really sound upset but he seemed to catch the serious, morbid air of the room and respected it.    

 

As Dean lead him, dazed, back to the car, Sam felt awful for just not… responding. He knew he should offer to drive, he knew he shouldn’t be making Dean do the work but he just… he couldn’t find it within himself. He tried, but he couldn’t.

 

Dean sat behind the wheel for a full minute before finally slipped the keys into the ignition. The car revved, but it sounded slower somehow as if even the car didn’t want to leave her old driver. Sam’s face was hot and he knew he was crying. He couldn’t deny that his father was dead. Not anymore.

 

He’d probably been dead before he even spoke to Meg. He was possessed and Sam should have realized that wound was fatal, he should have… he knew he should have questions by the thousands but he didn’t. His questions half-formed in his mind before slipping away and leaving him drained.

 

The car ride was the worst he ever had. Dean played no music, not one song, his eyes never left the road, save for a few times they flickered over Sam. Sam switched between staring out the side window and the windshield. His brother didn’t stop once on the drive back to Bobby’s, which was pushing it where gas was concerned. Dean usually threw a fit when they didn’t gas up the car often - it could damage the engine, as Dean said. But he truly didn’t seem to even notice or care.

 

First mom, then Jess, now dad - Sam leaned back against the seat. For the first time in a very long time, the dark, toxic thoughts of Sam’s mind pulled him to the folklore on siblings being soulmates. They jeered and pointed out the similarities between him, Dean, Michael, and Lucifer. Maybe Dean was wrong, maybe the tales were right. After all, most legends were true when viewed in the right lighting. Maybe they were cursed, wrong, a perversion of holiness.

 

Sam felt relief and dread when the car finally slowed, pulling into the old salvage lot. Relief to get out of the confined space, and dread because every second he didn’t wake up reinforced the nightmare’s reality.

 

There were three more words spoken the rest of the night. Three.

 

The first was spoken by Dean. Dean gently laid a hand on his back and led him into the house. They were waiting for Bobby, who was about twenty minutes behind if Sam guessed right. Dean immediately started in the kitchen. He sat Sam down at the table, Sam didn’t have the energy to protest independence right then. Dean cooked something, not because either of them were hungry but because Dean took care of people, that’s just what he did, and cooking was an easy way to do that. After making some kind of heated-up sandwich he laid it in front of Sam.    

 

“Eat,” it was not a command nor a requested, it was a plea and Sam knew it. Sam wasn’t hungry but he bit into the food, chewed, and swallowed, though he’d never remember what was in it. To him, it was tasteless and heavy in his mouth.

 

The second word was spoken by Bobby. The older hunter arrived with red-rimmed eyes twenty-three minutes later, glancing at both boys before leaving again. Dean went to follow but Bobby gave him a look. Sam couldn’t see his brother’s face, but he didn’t have to. Bobby wasn’t going to let sons build their father’s funeral pyre.

 

Thirty-eight minutes past before Bobby returned with dirty hands and muddy boots. They followed the hunter then and stood next to the much-too-familiar wooden structure. A true hunter’s funeral and damn if their dad didn’t deserve it. Sam could see a figure in the middle wrapped in a white sheet but it didn’t make it any easier, he still knew who was under that innocent little sheet.  

 

“Okay,” Bobby said under his breath. He stepped forward and flicked open a metal lighter. The man hesitated one moment before he threw it onto the wood. Bobby must have used a generous amount of gasoline because it caught and roared to power with seconds.

 

The next word was spoken by Sam. When every single ember faded to charcoal, Bobby nodded and headed back. Dean’s face hadn’t changed and Sam knew that was from necessity rather than want. Sam touched his brother's shoulder and watched Dean facade crumble. His chest shuttered and his hand grasped Sam’s arm.

 

Sunlight was absent from the sky, the stars dulled sadly. Sam couldn’t look away from Dean’s eyes. He was looking up, trying and failing to contain tears - his eyes were a weeping ocean to Sam’s interpretation. Dean’s eyes were the most beautiful sight Sam knew and seeing them saturated with such deep sadness caused his soul to ache. Sam just brushed his hand over Dean’s chest and nodded to the house.

 

Dean, of course, understood and they walked silently together. Bobby didn’t say a word, didn’t even look up from the table as Sam and Dean headed to the same upstairs room. Bobby’s house had two guest rooms - one downstairs that Sam usually used and one upstairs that Dean used. But Bobby didn’t say one word as they both scaled the stairs.

 

Likened to a trance, Sam chucked his shoes off as Dean did the same. He sat on the soft sheets knowing sleep wasn’t an option he wanted, but this night wasn’t about sleep.

 

“Dean,” Sam offered softly. Just as with Dean’s word, Sam’s was a plea. A plea to accept and give comfort, to slap a temporary patch on their lives and desperately pray it holds against the hurricane winds threatening them.

 

Dean could never deny that plea and laid down next to his little brother. Sam understood, in their strange bond, they weren’t soulmates that night - they were brothers who just lost their father. And because of that, Dean hadn’t one qualm with pulling his brother close and just soaking in the broken comfort he offered. Sam let his eyes slip closed, resting his open palm on Dean’s chest and turning his mind off.

 

* * *

 

 

The clock flashed 7:00 am in red letters when Dean finally found the strength to untangle himself from his restlessly sleeping brother. Pulling on his leather jacket, Dean slipped out of the grieving house unnoticed.

Standing beside the hood of the Impala, just where he knew he would be, stood Castiel.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted, toneless, cold, uncaring.

 

“What if I don’t?” Dean questioned sharply not having the time, patience, or energy to beat around the bush. “What if I say ‘fuck you’ and leave.”

 

“Then Sam will die.”

 

Dean tensed because any threat to Sam made him tense. “What, some blast of holy lightning’ll burst from the sky and zap him?”

   

“No,” Castiel said. “I would kill him.”

 

Dean stepped forward and clocked the angel. Dean’s hand ached furiously but he boxed it away. The angel didn’t even seem fazed.

 

“Be smart for a moment, Dean,” Castiel said, his eyes seeming to pierce straight though his skin. “You just bared witness to myself smiting four demons as if they were ants. Do you stand any chance against me?”

 

Dean seethed with anger. “You missed two, jackass.”

 

“They aren’t of consequence,” Castiel waved. “Now cease stalling and swear. I showed you good faith today, Dean. I held my end, now you must hold yours or the consequences will be steep.”

 

Dean could feel his vision tinting red, but he knew no matter how much he screamed and argued, Castiel wasn’t changing his price. Dean hated this with a raging fire. He could swear and possibly dangle Sam’s life over a cliff or not swear and have him killed outright.

 

Dean did the only thing he could do - the only thing his soul let him do, what he always did.

 

He protected. He served. He obeyed.

 

“I swear.”

 

He swore.

 

* * *

 


	5. Allies Within Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who liked/reviewed/read :) Please forgive any mistakes and enjoy…

 

**Chapter five: Allies within Enemies.**

 

~~~

_And I see your true colors_

 

_Shining through_

_  
_ _I see your true colors_

 _  
_ _And that's why…_

 

~~~

 

Dean never did make it back to sleep that night, not that he really wanted to. He didn’t go back to Sam either. Guilt chipped away at his mind as he thought of what he just swore to. He was working through a complete overload and he wasn’t making any visible progress. Dean just couldn’t help but think he had made a terrible mistake.

 

Then, of course, the entire house was mourning over the loss of John. Dean couldn’t believe he was just… gone. One second he had a father and the next he didn’t. It should have seemed simple but it wasn’t. But as Dean sat awake, enveloped by the dark, he wondered if his father was in heaven.

 

Dean never believed in heaven but he _had_ just met an angel. And for as much of an ass Castiel had been he _was_ an angel, right? That meant there was a heaven and even a God. He hoped his father was in heaven. He imagined John back in Kansas wrapping Mary in a hug, giving her a kiss. Dean smiled, the picture leaving a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

 

According to the old stories, soulmates shared a heaven. He wondered if he could ask Castiel the next time he saw him. Then Dean ran a tired hand down his face - he knew Sam and Bobby would be gunning for answers today and Dean wasn’t sure he could answer them all. But they would ask, so he would try.

 

The clock flashed 5:03 am, but Dean couldn’t wait anymore. Needing something to keep him busy, Dean went down to the kitchen and started on breakfast. He found some pancake mix, a few eggs, and some bread. Dean felt gratitude flutter in his chest because he knew Bobby stocked up just for them.

 

Anytime the Winchesters had made a surprise visit to Bobby’s, the kitchen had beer, takeout, pizza and that was it. But when they called ahead the kitchen was stocked full and Dean always deeply appreciated that. Bobby wasn’t one for soft words or hugs, but he showed he cared by making sure they had what they needed - be it food, shelter, protection, etc.

Right after Dean removed the coffee kettle from the machine, he heard his brother’s footsteps on the stairs. Dean’s eyes scanned the younger man over, noting the rumpled clothes, bruise-like shadows under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.

 

“Hey,” Dean said, pouring the coffee into a mug and handing it to Sam.

 

“Thanks,” Sam grunted, his voice rough from a bad night’s sleep.  

 

Sam sat at the table, sipping the black coffee while Dean pushed eggs around the iron pan. When those were done, he wiped the pan off and poured the pancake mix into it, making three pancakes at once. He slid a plate of eggs over to Sam with a pointed look because he knew how Sam was. In times of stress, Sam had a habit of not eating which was completely unacceptable in Dean’s book. Sam grabbed the plate obediently and stuck his fork in the scrambled eggs.

 

When the pancakes were done, Bobby walked in. From the state of him, Dean could tell the man had been up for a while. Bobby took the offered pancakes with a nod of thanks and sat next to Sam. Dean followed. After a few minutes, Bobby broke the tense silence that had begun to fill the room.  

 

“So,” Bobby said, looking over to Dean. “Want to fill us in on what the hell happened yesterday?”

 

Dean’s jaw worked. _No_ , he wanted to say but he knew that wouldn’t be well received. So Dean explained. He told them he had woken up in a strange place, he told them about Castiel, about the conversation in the weird room.

 

“Woah, slow it down,” Bobby said, shaking his head. “He said apocalypse?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “He, uh, called me a sword, I think, said something about me helping them win the… war or whatever.”

 

“Why you?” Sam asked. “Did he say?”

 

Dean threw his hands up. “No, not really. He said he wanted me to kill these four monsters - Horsemen, he called them.”

 

Dean seemed confused but Bobby didn’t. In fact, Bobby seemed horrified.

 

“Horsemen? You mean the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse?” Bobby said. “It’s an old myth - when the Four Horsemen ride, the apocalypse starts.”  

 

“Great,” Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. He could feel a headache creeping up on him. That wasn’t far off from what Castiel had told him.  

 

“Yeah, but,” Sam interjected. “What authority does this guy have on it? What is he anyway?”

 

Dean turned his eyes on Sam. He locked his gaze with Sam’s because he needed Sam to see the truth in his words through his eyes. He then explained what Castiel was, all the while holding Sam’s gaze in an iron grip. Sam’s lips pinched like they often did when he was told something unexpected, something unbelievable. He explained how Castiel had flashed his wings - _actual freakin’ wings, Sammy_ \- and then about his grace making his eyes visible.

 

“Balls,” he heard Bobby curse. “And I thought I was just losing it.”

 

Dean lifted his head half-way to Sam. The younger boy had dropped his eyes and Dean really wanted to grasp his chin, to return his gaze to Dean’s but he stopped and looked away.

 

Sam looked up again. “What else?”

 

Bobby turned his eyes on him in interest but Dean stayed silent.

 

“Dean, I know there’s more,” Sam implored of him. “Tell me.”

 

Dean didn’t want to, he really didn’t. However, he knew he couldn’t do this - whatever it was - without Sam by his side. He just couldn’t. They _just_ lost their dad and he wasn’t splitting them up even further.

 

“Castiel made me swear to help them,” Dean said. “He told me you and Bobby were about to be killed and said he would only save you... guys if I swore so I… I didn’t have a choice.”

 

“What did he make you swear on?” Bobby asked.

 

Sam didn’t have to ask, he just knew. Solely by the look on his brother’s face, Dean knew he understood.

 

After all, what was the highest price one could ask of Dean?  

 

“I wanted to swear on my life,” Dean looked away. “But he wouldn’t let me, he made me swear on Sam’s. Said he’d kill Sam himself if I broke the deal.”

 

“Damn,” Bobby said. “You even know where to start?”

 

Dean shook his head. Because, honestly, he didn’t.

“I guess we could start here,” Sam suggested. “Research this apocalypse that Castiel talked about and go from there… but, Dean, did he say why he wanted the Horsemen dead?”

 

“He said he wanted their rings,” Dean looked at Bobby but the man just shook his head. “He said they would release a weapon, something that could end the apocalypse.”

 

Bobby sighed and pushed away from the table, heading to the living room/library. Dean heard him mumble something about ‘damn Winchesters’.

 

When they were alone, Dean pursed his lips, noticing the amount of food still on Sam’s plate. He didn’t push the issue right then, but he made a note to push it later.

 

“Dean,” Sam said softly, his voice tugging Dean to look at him. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. Sometimes his smart little brother could have a twisted sense of right and wrong. Dean had just told him he bartered his life with a total stranger and Sam was trying to comfort _him_. Dean didn’t deserve comfort, maybe a punch in the face, but not comfort. He got Sam into this situation and he would damn well get him out.

 

“Sure, Sammy.”

 

“I’m serious, Dean,” Sam said, wearing his ‘I-don’t-have-time-for-your-shit-Dean’ face. “Castiel locked you in a lose-lose situation. I would have done the same thing and you know it. Just because Castiel decided to pluck you up doesn’t mean it was your fault.”

 

Dean raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I get it, I do, I just wish I found a way out of it.”

 

“There wasn’t one.”

 

“Probably not, but still.”

 

“Dean,” Sam said, and Dean could tell the subject had changed. Sam had his ‘thinking’ face on now. “Castiel said he would give you information, right?”  

 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “But I didn’t catch his number… if he has one. Do angels have cell phones?”

 

Sam’s eyes went to the side (thinking) before his lips parted slightly (idea).

 

“What if…,” Sam said, biting his bottom lip. “He expected you to know how to call him? I mean, what do people do when they want to talk to an angel?”

 

“You mean - praying?” Dean asked, a little indignant. “You want to pray to the guy.”

 

Sam shrugged. “He’s an angel, right?”

 

“I guess…,” Dean said. Well, it couldn’t hurt. Dean tilted his head up. “Um, Dear Castiel, I pray you fly your angelic ass down here and give us a hand?”  

 

Sam and Dean both looked around the room when nothing happened.

 

“I don’t think you did it right,” Sam shrugged.

 

Just after the last word left his mouth, there was a gust of wind - or what sounded like wind.

 

“Hello.”

 

Dean whipped around to the window and there stood Castiel. He didn’t look any different from yesterday and Dean felt his eyes narrow.

 

Sam looked a little awed. He was standing in front of an angel, even if he was a dick. He saw Sam zero in on Castiel’s eyes and wince a little. Dean understood the feeling. It was incredibly odd for them to see the colour of another’s eyes, especially when those eyes invoked no feeling.

 

When Dean looked into Sam’s eyes, he felt warm, happy, complete. He felt like it was them against the world - and they were winning. He felt the tension leave his body as the world boiled down to a thousand colours melted into two irises. When he looked at Castiel’s eyes he felt a flicker of power but nothing else and it was genuinely creepy.   

 

“You called me?” Castiel asked when neither boy spoke.

 

“Yes,” Sam spoke before Dean got the chance. “What are we supposed to do?”     

 

Castiel squinted at Sam, almost like he was confused by the question. “ _Dean_ is supposed to kill the Four Horsemen.”

 

Sam crossed his arms and Dean had to restrain a sigh. He really didn’t need Sam picking a fight with the angel.

 

“So? If Dean’s doing some stupid heaven quest then I’m in too.”

 

Castiel looked like he wanted to protest but he didn’t. “Very well.”

 

“So the Horsemen,” Dean injected. “Tell us about them.”

 

“There are four of them, as you know,” Castiel said, explaining. “There is War, Pestilence, Famine, and Death. These may seem like abstract concepts to you but I assure you each one is quite real and tangible. You don’t… necessarily have to kill them to collect their rings but I don’t see how you would get them otherwise.”

 

“And how do we kill them?” Sam asked, clearly shoving his awe away.  

 

Castiel shifted. “We have delegated the collection of that information to be found by you.”

 

“So you don’t know?” Dean summed up.

 

“They have never been killed before,” Castiel defended. “But I can tell you which weapons won’t kill them. A mortal blade, for example, will not harm them at all.”

 

“Great,” Sam mumbled.

 

“This,” Castiel said before flicking his wrist, a long silver blade dropping into his hand. He held it up.“Is an angel blade. This will kill almost anything - every monster, demons, and even angels themselves.”

 

Dean looked at the weapon with interest because, yeah, every hunter dreamt of an all-in-one weapon.

 

“Are we gonna get a few of those?” Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“The arsenal in your car has been fully stocked with what we have to offer,” Castiel said, tucking the blade back into his sleeve and clenching his fist.

 

Dean wanted to be annoyed at that if he wasn’t pretty grateful. The only people who touched the Impala’s trunk was him, Sam, and… Well, him and Sam now. Dean was never going to get used to that - leaving his father’s name out.

 

Sam wasn’t as cautious as Dean and he shot Castiel his absolute best bitchface. But it did make Dean smirk a little. Even though their father had handed the keys to Dean, it didn’t make the Impala any less Sam’s. It was them in a nutshell, their home and the holder of their memories.

 

And if he was being honest, he liked it when Sam got all possessive… over the car.

 

Dean shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

 

“Where do we find these Horsemen?” Dean asked. “Where do we start?”

 

“Look where their element is,” Castiel guided. “Look for War in places of war and so on…”

 

“But we aren’t at war,” Sam said, annoyance seeping into his tone. “Tell me he’s not in Syria or something?”

 

Dean cringed, really hoping that wasn’t the case. Not only would they have to fly somewhere if he was overseas, but he was _not_ about to put his brother in the middle of a war zone.

 

Castiel shook his head. “War is still weak from the Awakening, as are the others. He would be causing chaos on a smaller level. You may want to look at places that have recently fallen into conflict without a clear reason.”   

“Alright, we can do-,” Dean couldn’t even finish before the angel vanished. Fantastic. “Guess he had somewhere to be.”

 

Sam huffed. “You weren’t lying when you said he was an ass.”

 

Dean looked over at Sam, noticing the pinched look about him. His arms crossed and the generally pissed off body language is brother was expressing. Which was odd, in Dean’s opinion. Sam usually didn’t let people or creatures get to him that easily - and Castiel hadn’t said anything to directly piss them off.  

 

“You okay, man?” Dean threw out the line, hoping Sam would bite.

 

“No actually,” Sam said. “I don’t like him.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “No arguments here.”

 

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Sam elaborated. “He was… it was like he was watching you or-or looking for something.”

 

“Really?” Dean asked. He hadn’t been paying that much attention, apparently.

 

“Yes,” Sam said, pushing the matter. “Maybe I’m just paranoid or something but he was definitely looking at you differently than me. I mean, he looked at me like I had some contagious disease.”  

 

Dean felt a flicker of protectiveness because he had noticed that too. Castiel certainly seemed wary of Sam at the least. He hadn’t noticed the way Castiel was ‘looking at him’, as Sam put it. But, if he thought about it, Castiel had chosen him for the job and he certainly hadn’t looked happy about Sam joining in. Dean wondered why but he didn’t have much time before Sam interrupted his thoughts.

 

“I guess I’ll search the web,” Sam said. “Hopefully I’ll find some activity close by… you might want to fill Bobby in. He’s going to have a fit about us summoning an angel in his kitchen.”

 

Dean smiled at that, it was the closest Sam could come to joking right then. There were still weights around both their mouths, pulling their expressions into a frown. In hindsight, Dean was _almost_ glad about this Horsemen distraction - it saved them from having to deal with the morbid truth at hand.

 

It was only then that Dean started to wonder about Sam’s ambush, really start to wonder about it. It didn’t make sense… and it was suspiciously simultaneous with Dean’s capture. Why had the demons wanted Sam? Just to kill him… or was it something worse? One of them had been _possessing_ his dad at the time - why go through that much effort for someone you were just going to off anyway?

 

These thoughts accompanied Dean as he went to speak with Bobby.  

  


* * *

 

 

“It wasn’t supposed to go that way,” the demon growled low and deep in his vessel’s throat.

 

“I understand that,” said the angel. “My sincerest apologies.”  

 

“Don’t _mock me_ , Michael,” Azazel’s power lashed out, blasting a nearby bookshelf apart. Michael didn’t seem fazed.

 

“Look, demon,” Michael said diplomatically, though Azazel could taste his underlying disgust at conversing with a demon. “My brother has always been a bit of a… free thinker. It won’t happen again.”

 

Michael’s tone promised there was severe punishment for his rogue angel. Which was good, but it didn’t fix Azazel’s problem. John was the _plan_ \- he had needed Sam to fall for the lie, to gain his trust. How was he supposed to groom him for their Lord now?

 

Azazel sneered. “If he was one of mine, I would have killed him before birth. ‘Free thinkers’ aren’t useful in _war_. And we are still at war, are we not? Do you come to offer your humble surrender?”

 

Michael was unfazed. “Do not be ridiculous. Castiel needs work, yes, but he is one of my best soldiers. And unlike you, angels can’t just torture humans to… reproduce. He’s been dealt with. Now, didn’t we come here to discuss the youngest vessel.”

 

“We did,” said Azazel. “Though I don’t see the point. He is _ours_ just as the older one is yours.”

 

“That he is,” Michael agreed. “That they are. Yet separating them won’t help any of us. That is why you brought them back together, after all? A very touching gesture, I must say.”

 

“Skip the holier than thou, angel. What do you propose?”

 

“A… deal of sorts,” Michael paused. “Those children love each other a great deal - more than anything else. That is why the original plan would never work. That is why Zachariah had to die… Dean would never give himself to the darkness while Sam lives. You must understand, Azazel, there is nothing in this world that could turn them against each other… besides good intentions.”

 

“Speak clearly.”

 

“Lay low for now,” Michael said. “Let us pave the road with good intentions - subtle suggestions and notions. Castiel has already begun to gain their trust - it is only a matter of time before the boys begin to listen to him… trust him. All you must do is the opposite. We need them isolated, understand?”

 

Azazel nodded slowly. “I see. Just ensure you have the rings by the eclipse, our Lord will be at his strongest then.”  

 

“Of course,” Michael smiled, looking more like a demon than an angel. “The battle shall take place _on_ the eclipse but it will take place _at_ the graveyard. You best prepare your ‘Lord’, Azazel - not that it will help.”

 

“We’ll see.”

 

“We will.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam’s eyes burned in the computer’s sharp light. Sam had turned down the brightness to nothing, but it still hurt after hours of searching and reading. Dean had tried dragging him to bed a few times, but Sam just batted him away. He needed to be doing something productive - he could catch up on sleep _after_ he found War.

 

Honesty bound, Sam wasn’t going to such lengths just because his own life was on the line. It was because he knew Dean was kicking himself every which way for the deal. The sooner they did this, the sooner the deal would be settled, or that was what Dean reassured him.

 

Sam, however, had always been more skeptical of people. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t like Castiel. Sam didn’t like his eyes for one. Seeing the eyes of another was _supposed_ to be something special, something shared between two people alone.

 

Sam couldn’t help but be protective over his and Dean’s bond - they couldn’t even acknowledge it. Castiel… the look he had given Dean was very akin to guilt, which made Sam wonder why he felt guilty.

 

Sam had always believed in angels… he was disappointed that they were the exact opposite of what he imagined. Or, Castiel was. The whole premise made his head hurt.

 

The thing was… soulmates weren’t just a do it or don’t thing. They weren’t something childish. The bond of two soulmates wasn’t something that would _allow_ itself to be ignored.

 

Sometimes Sam would lay awake, clutching his chest because it _hurt._ It physically hurt when people asked about his soulmate and he had to lie and say he hadn’t found them. And he knew it hurt Dean too, not that he’d ever admit it. It was worse right now because the bond was being strained by grief. This was the time a person should be with their soulmate - hug them, comfort them - but they couldn’t.

 

 _Accept we could_ , Sam thought angrily. Maybe it was because their father never addressed the issue with him, maybe it was because he was too stubborn, maybe it was just because he loved Dean so damn much - but he wasn’t ashamed of his soulmate. Maybe it made him sick, but he didn’t care Dean was his brother _and_ soulmate. He just wished they could be both.

 

 Sam’s eyes dropped and a headline caught his attention. He clicked on it and his eyebrows went up. This could definitely be something.

 

With laptop in hand, Sam went to seek out Dean. He found him on the couch with an old leather-bound book in his hands. Sam recognized it as the one book they had that even mentioned angels… except for the bible of course. Sam made a mental note to skim through it later as he sat beside his brother.

 

Sam carefully set the laptop on Dean’s lap. “Check this out.”   

 

“It could be nothing,” Dean pointed out after reading what Sam had shown him.

 

“Or it could be War,” Sam shot back. “I mean, you gotta admit, Dean, it’s crazy. Two families who’ve been friends forever are literally at each other’s throats.”

 

“What about the girls?”

 

“Tragic love story,” Sam said. “Think about it, war has to be like an art to this guy. He wants maximum impact, maximum suffering. How better to do that then keeping two soulmates apart?”

 

Dean nodded, gesturing with his palms up. “I mean, it makes sense, kind of. I guess we can check it out, see what’s what.”

 

“Good,” Sam said, satisfied he had convinced his brother.

 

Dean slapped the table and stood, Sam following.

 

Bobby had decided, with protest, to stay back. He wanted to dive deeper into the angel lore and nose around for more information about the Horsemen. He was also going to call up an old friend, he had said, a friend that was a bit of a history nut - a biblical history nut at that.

 

Sam hoped he would find something useful, but he didn’t set those hopes very high. If Castiel, an actual angel, didn’t know how to kill them, the chances of finding it in a book were slim.

 

The place wasn’t that far from Bobby’s, in Winchester miles of course. It took them about eleven hours, only stopping a few times for gas. Sam had protested Dean driving the entire way, stating he was perfectly capable to take the wheel for a few hours but Dean just ignored him. Eventually, Sam had given up and listened to the radio.

 

Finally, they had pulled into the old motel - the _Blue Diamond Inn_ \- a fancy name for such a run down place. Sam and Dean unloaded the weapons old and new from the trunk. Castiel really hadn’t been lying about stocking them up. There were four angel blades, jars of liquid labeled _Holy Water_ and _Holy Oil_ , though Sam didn’t know what the latter was for. There were also a couple hex bags and a book of warding more advanced than Sam had ever seen. Overall, Sam was pretty impressed.

 

The sun was gone by the time they got there, so they decided to sleep before heading to the families in the morning.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam sat down heavily on the motel room chair. Talking to the Andersons and the Browns had been pointless and painful. Dean had taken the Andersons and Sam took the Browns.

 

Talking to the parents had just been them spewing hatred for their former friends. However, when Sam asked why exactly they hated each other, he only received confused stares. As if they didn’t need a reason to hate them, they just did.

 

But talking to Amy had been horrible. The girl was only thirteen years old and she hadn’t seen her soulmate in weeks. She had to listen to her parents say awful things about the girl she loved… Sam really felt for her. The moment Sam had mentioned Heather’s name, Amy had broken down crying, begging Sam to let her see the other girl.

 

It was a difficult situation because they weren’t registered soulmates, meaning the law had to go by words alone. And since the girls were only thirteen and fifteen, it was their parents that held the final word. Usually, parents adored seeing their children find their soulmate, especially so young. The police found no reason why the parents would lie… but the girl’s reactions were too much to ignore. The town judge ruled to give it three months and if the girls still insisted on their bond, he would revisit the case.

 

Personally, Sam thought one look at Amy should tell him how real their bond was. He could still hear Amy’s begging - _‘They’re blue, agent, I swear… I swear they’re so, so blue…’_

 

And from what Dean had said, Heather wasn’t fairing much better. From the sound of it, she was even worse. They both knew that this situation could escalate very quickly if they weren’t careful. Keeping soulmates apart was dangerous… Sam knew that firsthand. But, there was no ‘test’ for soulmates - at least not a non-magical one.

 

“Hey,” Dean’s call pulled Sam back to reality. “I can feel you thinking from over here.”

 

Sam sighed. “I’m just trying to figure out a way to help them. Whatever’s going on, even if it isn’t War, it’s definitely supernatural.”

 

“Agreed,” Dean said, flipping the laptop closed and turning to his brother. “There was one interesting thing that Mrs. Anderson mention. She said the Browns had been stalking them, said she kept seeing the same red four door outside for days. So, I just ran the Brown’s car history and they’ve never owned a red car, ever.”

 

“‘I saw a man mount a red horse and he was War, riding upon a red horse’,” Sam quoted. “You think it was War?”

 

“Modern day Horsemen,” Dean said. “It’s not like the guy could ride up on an actual horse without attracting all kind of attention.”

 

“Makes sense,” Sam said, nodding along. “It’s weird but it makes sense.”

 

“I think you just summed up our lives.”

 

Sam huffed a small laugh. As Sam was about to retort, his phone began buzzing in his pocket. He saw Bobby’s name flash on the little screen and wondered if he had a break-threw in the case. He definitely wasn’t calling to check in so soon.      

 

Sam opened the phone and pressed the speaker button. “Hey, Bobby, you got me and Dean here.”

 

“Alright,” Bobby sighed, and Sam could tell something wasn’t right.

 

Dean could tell too.

 

“Everything okay, Bobby?” Dean asked, coming over to sit on the bed beside Sam.

 

“No,” Bobby said. “Everything ain’t okay. Listen boys, we have a situation - I don’t know who or when they-”

 

“Bobby,” Sam interrupted, sharing a look with Dean. Bobby barely ever sounded this frantic. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’m sorry, boys,” Bobby said. “Someone leaked to the whole damn hunter circle about you two. I just got a phone call from Travis askin’ if I knew the Winchester boys were soulmates.”

 

Sam’s blood ran cold at that. It was the nightmare situation he had feared his entire childhood. It was the reason why Dean barely even looked at him when they were with other hunters. Because if normal people found out, they just wouldn’t believe it. It would be the same as telling them werewolves were real, just with no proof.

 

But hunters… they knew _anything_ is possible. And they had guns, lots of guns and too much spare time.  

 

Glancing at Dean, he saw the other man had gone deathly pale, his hand gripping his knee hard enough for his fingers to turn white. As much as Sam feared this would happen, Dean feared it even more. In fact, it was the one thing that Sam could clearly tell Dean was afraid of.

 

The night Bobby had found out… Sam still shutters at the state Dean had been in.

 

“How?” Dean asked sharply. “Who could have told them… who could have known?”

 

“The angels know,” Sam offered. “They’re the only wildcard here.”

 

Sam watched Dean mentally count to five. “What are they saying about it?”

 

“It’s mixed,” said Bobby. “Some of them don’t believe it, some of them just don’t care… but there are a few gunning for you boys. I don’t know who yet, but I’ll find out.”

 

“Great,” Dean said and pushed himself off the bed.   

 

“Thanks for calling, Bobby,” Sam said.

 

“You boys just stay safe, you hear?”

 

“Understood,” Sam said, listening to the phone click off before tucking it back in his pocket.

 

“Alright!” He heard Dean yell at the window. “Castiel you better get the fuck down here and explain what the hell is goi-”

 

Dean didn’t finish before the same gust from before was heard and Castiel appeared in the center of the room. Dean immediately rounded on the angel with fiery eyes.

 

“You wanna explain?”

 

“I don’t understand what you want me to explain.”

 

“Hunters,” Dean growled. “Other hunters know about me and Sam and _we_ sure as hell didn’t tell them.”

 

“What about you and Sam?” Castiel asked. For anyone else, Sam would think they were screwing with Dean… but Castiel seemed honestly confused. “Do you mean, about your status as soulmates?”

 

“Don’t call-,” Dean stopped himself with a glance over at Sam.

 

Sam looked away, that hurt. _Don’t call us that,_ Dean was about to say. Very rarely did one soulmate ever reject the other… in fact, Sam had never heard of that happening but… Sam knew Dean loved him, wanted to be with him, but… Well, Sam was quickly running out of buts.

 

“Yes,” Dean corrected himself. “Did you angels spill it to them?”

 

Castiel seemed to think for a moment. Dean looked suspicious, like he thought Castiel was trying to formulate a lie. Honestly, Sam thought the angel was trying to decipher Dean’s unique way of talking.    

 

“No,” Castiel said. “We understand your reasons to be secretive about your relationship, we respect that as soulbonds are very sacred to heaven. However, we aren’t the only group who know of you both.”

 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

 

“Who do you think we’re fighting against?” Castiel asked. “We are now at war with the Deceiver and his demons - they know of your bond just as we do.”  

 

Castiel had left soon after dropping that bombshell. It seemed like they were just getting hit after hit, each one slowly knocking down everything they had ever known. It was just relentless and Sam felt tired, rundown.

 

Both he and Dean were even more anxious to get on with the hunt, anything to distract from the shitstorm that was about to hit. Sam knew what happened to hunters that went ‘darkside’. He had heard stories about hunters being best friends for years, then one turns, and the other shoots him without a second thought.

 

It was just the nature of hunters, Sam supposed. Most all hunters he knew had lost their soulmate to the supernatural. Fighting and killing monsters was definitely an outlet to exercise their anger. People who had lost their soulmate… they became almost monster-like themselves. Bobby was the only exception Sam knew of. However, Sam knew Bobby would be a lot different if his soulmate was still alive.

 

They went back to the hunt a few hours later, after Dean had practically force-fed Sam a cheeseburger, despite his very vocal protests that he wasn’t hungry.

 

They had decided to work on the Anderson’s first, but it was just pure chaos when they arrived. Apparently, Heather had snuck out of her parent's house and climbed through Amy’s window to see her. The Browns had freaked when they saw Heather, screaming that she broke in. When they went to attack her, Amy had got in between them. Heather had rushed to the closet, quickly pulling Amy after her before they barricaded the door. It seemed that the Browns had arrived about at that time, yelling accusations of kidnapping at the Anderson’s.

 

That’s what Sam and Dean had arrived to - two girls trapped in a walk-in closet and four adults ready to rip each other to shreds. It had taken a lot, as the people didn’t even care about the gun Dean pointed at them. Sam and Dean had to manually wrestle them away from each other, receiving variously kicks and punches in the process. As Dean had been forcing Mrs. Brown into a chair, he noticed a small mark on her neck and yelled for Sam to check the others.

 

He had. The mark was small, blood red and in the shape of a what looked like a sword with a flower wrapped around it, sitting just behind the ear. The mark was more of a brand, and it didn’t just wipe off. Dean had grabbed a pocket knife from his shoe, putting on his ‘this better work’ face on and made a very shallow cut across the thickest part of the mark. The woman had immediately jerked up and fell limply forward. Her husband and the other two soon followed.

 

However, the fight wasn’t over, as a man dressed in red and black had appeared, raging about his ‘ruined fun’ and how that had been ‘perfect’. Sam had quickly recognized him as War. They had fought him for a few minutes, but they hadn’t been prepared to face War just yet. Though, they both had the sense to bring along the angel blades. In a moment of distraction, Dean had managed to stab the guy in the shoulder. He didn’t die, but he did scream and slam his hand down on the table in pain.

 

Sam had seen the shine of a ring on his finger. Reacting on pure instinct, before thinking it out, Sam grabbed the man’s wrist and brought the angel blade down like a chopping knife. The blade easily severed the fingers of War and Sam quickly snatched up the ring finger, sliding the golden ring off of it.

 

War seemed to be startled, he looked up with wide eyes before his body arched and he vanished as if he was never there.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean had left the town after the fight with War. Bobby wasn’t home when they arrived, but he had left a note about being out late to the library. Personally, Sam wondered if he had left for the bar. He did that when he wanted to drink more than usual, at least when Sam and Dean were there. Sam wasn’t sure, but the past few days had seemed to really affect Bobby. And Sam didn’t blame him.

      

Later that night found them sitting in Bobby’s living room, Dean rolling War’s ring between his fingers. He was studying the little thing and Sam’s thoughts unknowingly mirrored his brother’s. The ring was small, just a gold band, almost like a man’s wedding ring. Sam wanted to know what kind of ‘weapon’ this ring would unlock.

 

“Should we call Castiel?” Dean asked, still looking at the ring.

 

Sam shrugged. “He’d probably want to know, yeah.”

 

Then didn’t pray this time, Castiel just showed up after Sam spoke. Sam jumped slightly at noticing the new figure that had materialized in the room. He didn't think he’d ever get used to that.

 

Dean simply held out War’s ring to the angel with an expectant look. Castiel took it from Dean as if it was a treasured artifact, holding it in a carefully tight hold.

 

“You did well,” Castiel said.

 

Sam’s gaze lingered on the angel’s face. For some reason that Sam couldn’t place, the angel looked… tired, maybe? He certainly looked different from just a while ago. Sam couldn’t help but think this war was bigger than he and Dean had realized. And it probably was. A heavenly war between angels and demons…

 

Castiel lingered for a moment in the silence of the brothers before he left without suggestion, leaving Sam and Dean alone once again.

 

* * *

 

Dean wouldn’t say it was awkward, but it was tense in the room. A blanket of uncomfortable silence had settled over them. Dean could see the poorly veiled questions in his brother's eyes. Dean knew what Sam was holding back and he didn’t want to talk about it, he hoped Sam could see that.

 

Dean knew that Sam always blamed their father for the way they grew up, for the shame that hung over their relationship. Dean never did though because… it wasn’t their father’s fault they were born brothers. Sam didn’t understand the devotion Dean had for him, the lengths he would go for the younger man. He didn’t want to fully turn Sam into… whatever they were. Being is one thing, acknowledging is entirely different.

 

“Dean,” Sam called his attention softly.

 

Dean already knew what Sam would say, already knew what he would say, so the point of this was? Nothing.

 

Dean stood up, intent on working on one of the cars Bobby had set up. Only Sam catching his arm stopped his movements.

 

“Dean, please.”

 

That did stop Dean. Surely Sam knew it would, that tone always did. The tone was a call for help. Not physical help. Not the fear steeped tone that Dean feared hearing… it was another kind of call. It was the tone Sam used when he was really sick and he needed his brother. It was the tone Dean always found himself drawn to, no matter how upset he was. Dean couldn’t ignore that tone.

 

Slowly, Dean turned back around. His sight was met with a tired Sam. Not just physically tired, but mentally tired as well.

 

“Why are we doing this, Dean?” Sam asked with a sigh. “Just why?”

 

“Doing what?” Dean said, attempting to keep his tone detached, distant.

 

“You know what,” this time, threads of anger were stitched into Sam’s voice. “Why is what we are wrong?”

 

This was a challenge and Dean knew that.

 

“Sam-”

 

“No,” Sam said, standing up, invoking a raised eyebrow from Dean. “Don’t you tell me that it’s because of some - some old story or because of d-dad. Because I _know_ it isn’t, Dean.”

 

Dean’s eyes widen for a split-second as Sam brought up their dad before he controlled his expression. But the thing was, Dean didn’t have an answer. It didn’t… his _feelings_ for Sam had never… felt wrong. But those young feelings had been wrapped in years of fear and shame. Dean didn’t know how his love for Sam had survived so many years centered in all those toxic words. But it - it had. It was just as strong as when he first met Sam’s eyes.

 

But it wasn’t right. He knew that because everyone knew that. If you ever think about your family in such a disgusting way, you’re sick, wrong, a _monster._ Dean might already be a monster for thinking about Sam the way he did but… he couldn’t turn Sam into one too.

 

“I _know_ what you’re thinking, you know that, right?” Sam spoke up again, making Dean’s eyes rise to meet his. “... and it isn’t true. Not one word of it. Dean, who the fuck cares if we share blood? Who? I sure as hell don’t And guess what? Apparently, angels don’t either. Honest-to-God _angels_ don’t care.”

 

“I care, okay?” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s heavy, yet true words. “I’m - I’m not going to…”

 

“To what?” Sam laughed without humor, a bit hysterical to be honest. “To corrupt me? If you don’t remember, I kissed you when I was fourteen… Believe me, Dean, I’ve been ‘corrupted’ ever since!”

 

That set Dean back on his heels because - because they just didn’t talk about that. It was the unspoken rule to not talk about those… moments of weakness. They didn’t talk about it because it was wrong and stupid and Dean should have stopped it.

 

“Dean, you have always been my brother, okay?” Sam said. “I’ve never… stopped thinking of you as a brother, but I have thought… thought about you being more. I’m tired and we just can’t keep doing this to ourselves, Dean. And with no reason.”

 

Dean did understand. He understood Sam’s point and… Sammy was right. What were the reasons they never… acted on their bond before. Well, dad wouldn’t approve, hunters could find out… the story of Michael and Lucifer…

 

And that’s when Dean’s head turned in deep thought. That story wasn’t true because angels didn’t exist but… they did. Angels existed.

 

Michael and Lucifer _existed._

 

“Dean?”

 

“Sammy,” Dean said, his tone urgent. “Michael and Lucifer exist.”

 

Those words acted like a spell on Sam, twisting his features into focused concentration mingled with wariness.  

 

“W-what does that mean?” Sam asked, breathing out.  

 

“I don’t know,” Dean said honestly. “I don’t know, Sammy.”  

 

* * *

 

 


	6. Off Script

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Again, a huge thanks to everyone who has liked/read/reviewed. You guys have been an incredible encouragement and I'm so happy you've liked it so far :D
> 
> Please forgive any mistakes and enjoy.

**Chapter Six: Off Script**

* * *

_So don't be afraid_

_To let them show_

_Your true colors_

_True colors are beautiful_

* * *

Castiel was conflicted, which led to confusion, which led to silence. Castiel was an angel - he was supposed to trust in his Father and not question. Of course his Father was right. His Father was the Creator, he was always right and every action he asked of Castiel was for a good reason.

Right?

But… something had changed that he couldn't deny. Castiel used to take such pride in his position. He was always in the right; he was always helping humanity. He used to be given tasks of healing and guidance. To watch over the humans of earth and lend his hand when he was able. He used to be allowed to interact with people. To talk to humans and speak freely of Heaven and its glory.

Now, he was told to never contact humans… it's safer for them, Michael had said. Castiel didn't understand, but he didn't question.

However, the bare truth of the matter was Castiel  _was_  conflicted. What Michael was doing… it couldn't be right. Those were dangerous thoughts for an angel, Castiel knew. Castiel had to decide… it was the biggest decision he would ever make.

He spent days in Heaven praying on his knees to his Father. He was never answered but he hadn't really been expecting an answer. He had already made up his mind.

Castiel decided to approach the situation with caution.

Castiel found Michael exactly where he knew he'd be. Michael had molded a part of Heaven to resemble a human office. Castiel was easily given access by the guards and the doors opened to reveal his brother sitting behind a large wooden desk. Michael looked up when Castiel walked in.

"Castiel," Michael greeted. "Are you in need of something?"

Castiel hesitated. "I wanted to ask a question."

Michael's eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back in the large chair. He brought his hands up and laced his fingers together, bright silver eyes never leaving Castiel's.

"Sit down, brother," Michael said and Castiel obeyed. "What is your question?"

"I understand," Castiel said. "That the apocalypse is our greatest concern… yet I do not understand why we must start it before it absolutely must be started."

Michael's eyes flared. "It isn't your place to  _understand_ , Castiel. Our Father decreed that the apocalypse shall begin on our terms. Which is better, to start it now and be prepared or wait for it to 'just happen' and be unprepared?"

Those were valid points. But…

"I thought Lucifer couldn't escape," Castiel said. "The cage was crafted by our Father's own hand."

"That it was," Michael agreed. "Yet our Father never intended it to hold Lucifer forever. Humanity will never be free while Lucifer lives. Not truly."

"I understand," Castiel said, although he still wasn't sure. "But I don't believe in what you want me to do. I… have met Sam multiple times now and he-he doesn't seem evil."

Castiel jumped when Michael slammed his hand on the table, his power thickening the air of the room.

"You think  _Lucifer_ seemed evil?" Michael snarled. "I'll tell you, Castiel, he didn't. He was… beautiful and charming and caring. The purest example of our kind. You have never met him, I have. You will listen to me when I tell you that the Winchester boy is evil. He will say yes to Lucifer and he  _will_  be destroyed. That is final."

The pure hatred in Michael's voice made Castiel feel cold. Castiel wasn't used to such feelings, which only seemed to intensify them. Michael sounded bloodthirsty and… Castiel had never heard that in an angel.

He didn't need to continue the conversation. That hatred convinced Castiel. These orders were not his Father's, they were Michael's. Michael, for some reason,  _wanted_ to fight Lucifer. And that was dangerous.

Yet, Castiel had no idea what to do about it.

Castiel ducked his head, apologized for his interruption, and excused himself. He needed to think.

* * *

Days later, Castiel still hadn't heard anything from his… from the Winchesters. Castiel was sitting by a river somewhere in… Norway, he thought, but he wasn't sure.

He felt like he should be doing something. He was much more capable of fighting the Horsemen than two humans but Michael insisted the Winchesters had to accomplish this task. It was to prepare them for the final battle, Castiel thought.

It was cold out, Castiel noted, not that it bothered him. The rock he was sitting on was ground smooth, indicating the river was once much higher than it was now.

Castiel sighed. What could he do? What difference could one angel make?

Absently, Castiel grabbed a nearby stick and started tracing the wet sand with it. He had watched children do this for centuries. Castiel liked watching humanity… it was amazing how different yet incredibly similar people were.

Castiel slowly started to make lines that formed words, maybe just to see them out loud, because he wasn't sure he was brave enough to do what he wanted. He didn't even know  _what_ he was planning to do… not really.

He wrote out:  _I am going to defy Michael_

Castiel closed his eyes. Michael was his brother, his  _family_ , and he was going to betray that? Seeing it spelled out made it more real, yet it also gave him a strange jolt of confidence.

Castiel opened his eyes to stare at the words longer… but they were gone. Instead, a new set of words were written:  _Do you truly intend to rebel_

Castiel stood up fast, looking around. He didn't see anyone… had Michael been watching him? But no, that was not Michael's handwriting… it was much too messy to be. Then who…?

A smarter angel would have fled, Castiel, however, was too curious for his own good.

Slowly, Castiel gripped the stick and carved a single word:  _Yes_

"Awesome."

Castiel spun around, flicking his blade into his hand. Before him stood an angel with a face he didn't recognize. Well… he might not recognize the face… but the unmistakable power of an Archangel encompassed this person… Castiel immediately figured out who this was… the lost son of Heaven.

"Gabriel?" Castiel breathed.

"Very astute," Gabriel gave a half-smile and a short bow. "I always wondered when one of you would break rank."

"I…," Castiel wanted to deny it, but he couldn't very well do that now. "How did you… find me?"

Gabriel quirked a brow. "What's Michael teaching you guys in angel Sunday school nowadays? I  _am_ Heaven's messenger, after all. You write something, I read it."

"Are you going to turn me over to Michael?" Castiel asked, bracing himself for a fight. Not that it would be a fight. Castiel was good, but he was nothing compared to an Archangel.

"Are you?" Gabriel asked, lifting a shoulder. "I mean,  _I've_ been the one on the run for a few thousand years."

"You don't care that I plan to rebel?"

"Care?" Gabriel asked, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't care. No, Cassie, I'm going to help you."

And honestly, Castiel didn't know how to respond to that.

* * *

"Dammit all!" Michael's grace whipped around the room like a hurricane, tearing apart his illusion of normality. His power had already burned through the vessel he was in, his brilliant wings flaring out behind him, ready for anything.

Just then, he felt Raphael fly to him. The only reason Raphael could withstand the pure power of the room was because he too, was an Archangel. To any lesser angel, just standing near Michael would be fatal.

"Brother," Raphael's usually calm voice was sharply edged.

"Raphael," Michael turned his fiery eyes to the other. "It seems our dear  _little brother_  has resurfaced."

Raphael's controlled face broke with emotion. Hope, relief, longing. "Gabriel?"

"Yes," Michael hissed. "I felt the shift minutes ago but I couldn't pin down exactly where he was. As it seems, he didn't return to help - Castiel's grace fell from my sight just after."

Realization struck Raphael. "Gabriel is… Castiel is rebelling?"

"What do you think?" Michael sneered. "That forsaken demon was right, Castiel was a risk. And now Gabriel… ha. Pathetic."

"But," Raphael began to protest, then stopped himself. Michael knew that the talk of collaborating with demons didn't sit well with Raphael.

Michael probably should too. Demons were the creations of Lucifer, the enemies of Heaven. But Michael couldn't bring himself to care. At first, his uncaring scared him, but now, even fear couldn't touch him.

In fact, Michael didn't feel anything anymore… he didn't feel love for his family, not even his Father. The only exception was Lucifer. For Lucifer, he felt… hate. Blinding, unchained hatred. Hate was the only thing he felt anymore and yet, he craved feeling that hate.

Lucifer had to die. Lucifer would die.

If he had to kill every angel in Heaven and every human on earth to do it, he would.

Because Lucifer would die. No matter the cost.

"Raphael," Michael said, his voice darkening dangerously. "I need you to go collect the Winchesters. The End is starting sooner than we planned."

* * *

"I mean, it's just not here," Dean said, flipping the old book closed and leaning back. "We've been at this for hours."

"I know I saw it somewhere," Sam was muttering, his face jammed in a book so old the title had faded off. "I just… no."

Dean rolled his eyes, and stood, his muscles protesting at being still for so long. "Well, you do that but I'm getting a drink. Want one?"

Dean didn't wait for a response because he didn't need one. Sam had launched straight into research mode after their whole 'Michael and Lucifer exist' realization. Of course, he didn't know what Sam would find that they didn't already know. He had mentioned asking Castiel, but Sam had pulled a face.

And Dean understood, he didn't really like the guy either.

The situation with the hunters wasn't clearing up anytime soon, either. However, it didn't seem like they were in immediate danger just then. Bobby was on damage control, trying to convince the hunters they were gravely mistaken.

Apparently, as news of John's death spread, a nasty rumor had popped up saying him and Sam being the one to kill their father. And, god, did that make Dean's blood boil. Their dad deserved better than his name being dragged through the mug by rumors.

Bobby was up to his knees in trying to keep the hunters at bay, but hunters were notoriously stubborn. Dean knew that they were going to have to do something about it all eventually, but they had bigger things to worry about.

As Dean was grabbing the two bottles from the refrigerator, he was stopped by the form of his brother in the doorway. The look across Sam's face had him putting down the bottles.

"Dean," Sam said, holding out the book he was holding. "Look at this."

Dean did, his eyes zeroing in on the paragraph Sam was pointing at.

' _And thus, befallen be the bearers, the harbingers of crusade. Fallen be the Four for the Serpent be arisen from surrender, fourfold. Foretold be the End, in wake of the Fallen. Arisen be the Serpent from the Fallen. Arisen be the End from the Serpent by the Warrior. Arisen, be the New.'_

"Dean," Sam was saying, a shadow over his face. "I think we're being played."

Dean nodded, because as far as cryptic ancient texts went, that one was pretty straightforward. Not for the first time, Dean cursed the deal he made. He  _knew_ it had been stupid… none of it made sense. This… this basically said that the Horsemen set free the 'Serpent'. Lucifer. It could only be talking about Lucifer.

Their next few hours were spent researching, the hope, however grim it may have been, was re-lit from their discovery. Sam was scouring the internet for independent writings about the apocalypse, though by the sound of it, he wasn't getting far at all.

Dean had been texting back and forth with Bobby's history nut. He was pretty sure the lady was half-crazy, but she did have some useful information. Nothing game-changing, but some more background in lesser-known angel lore. Like, holy oil, for example, can be used to trap angels. That was useful. Also, there were apparently Archangels and Seraphim angels… and a lot of others Dean didn't memorize. Briefly, he wondered which one Castiel was.

It was later that night that Sam and Dean were sat together, reading. Bobby was asleep. Dean mentioned sleep to Sam, but the kid just glared at him and stuck his face back into his book. Dean sighed, Sam hadn't slept in over twenty-six hours, he would have to soon.

However, Dean wasn't given the chance to force his little brother to sleep.

Bright light had flashed throughout the room, accompanying by rogue blue lightning and a head-splitting high pitched noise. Dean grabbed Sam's shirt, pulling them both down.

As the light faded down, Dean risked a glance up. There was a dark-skinned man dressed in a sharp blue suit standing in front of them. His eyes shined an electric blue, like bottled lightning, that radiated power. His hair was cut short and he stood in perfect posture. In fact, he looked inhumanly perfect, not one thing out of place.

Slowly, Dean rose, aware of Sam doing the same next to him.

"And who the hell are you?" Dean asked. Honestly, he was getting tired of random beings appearing in Bobby's living room.

"Raphael," the man said, his voice deep and regal.

"Are you another angel?" Sam asked from his right. He knew what was going through his brother's mind. This angel looked a lot less friendly than Castiel, and they didn't have any angel blades on them.

"Ah," the man said. "I did hear you were the smart one, Sam."

Dean didn't like the way Raphael said his brother's name. He said it like a curse, a disease. In fact, he didn't like the feel of this angel at all. From Castiel, he felt power - from this angel, he felt danger.

Speaking of Castiel…

"Where's Castiel?" Dean asked, forcing himself to sound casual. "Isn't he our babysitter?"

"Castiel is otherwise occupied," Raphael took a step forward. "You both will be coming with me, now."

"Yeah, we'll pass, thanks," Dean said.

Raphael paid no mind to Dean as he continued advancing. Dean's mind was working quickly, but there didn't seem to be a way out of this. He had traveled via angel air before, and if this angel wanted to zap them somewhere, he could.

Dean was saved from thinking up a brilliant plan by another blinding burst of light. He could hear screaming, which sounded like Raphael's deep voice and another voice he didn't recognize. He grabbed Sam's arm, keeping a hold on Sam and yanking him down again. Sam grunted as they hit the floor, their hands coming up to shield their faces.

Books were flying off Bobby's shelves, papers flapping everywhere and blocking their already limited vision. Dean briefly registered that the noise had probably woken Bobby up, and he hoped the man would stay away, less he get caught in the crossfire. There was another sharp noise before it abruptly cut off again.

It was as the light was fading and sharpening again when Castiel's form came into view. The angel looked more disheveled than usual, his blue eyes wide and almost panicked. He rushed in front of the brothers, kneeling down to both of them.

"Sam, Dean," he was saying. He reached out like he was going to touch them, but retracted at the last moment. "Are you hurt?"

"No-," Sam answered, cut off by that ear-piercing noise again.

"We have to go," Castiel said, his voice loud and urgent. "We can't - there will be others. We have to go."

"And why the hell should we trust you?" Sam asked over the increasing noise.

"Would you rather take your chance with me or Raphael?"

Sam swallowed, turned his eyes to Dean, and nodded. Dean got the message 'the devil you know'. Dean couldn't say he liked it, but he agreed. Dean had already thrown his lot in with Castiel when he swore to him. There wasn't much going back now.

Castiel didn't wait for a verbal response as he laid two fingers on both their foreheads and white light encased them once more.

* * *

When the world stopped spinning, Dean stumbled, catching himself on a nearby wall. Sam was better at keeping his balance, only losing one step before regaining his posture. Dean's head was still a little shaken, making the room tilt a bit.

Looking around, he saw a strangely normal wooden cabin. They seemed to be in a living room, white furniture covered with light green blankets, plants in almost every corner. Large windows gave sight to a glass-still lake and a surrounding forest of thick green trees and underbrush. The walls were covered in odd symbols written with flourish, some glowing, some not.

He saw Castiel staring intently at one of the windows, probably looking for Raphael.

He was just about to ask when a bleeding man appeared right behind the largest couch. The man was short, well, shorter than them. He had short blondish brown hair and was wearing a torn white shirt that said 'deal with it' in all caps. Dean raised an eyebrow.

As soon as Castiel saw the man, he rushed to his aid. Castiel held him up by his arms, carefully leading him to a chair and lowering him onto it. The man groaned and leaned back before looking up at him and Sam. It was then that Dean saw the brown-golden colour of his eyes. Dean shivered. He would never get used to that.

"Uh," he heard Sam say. "Does anyone want to explain what the hell just happened?"

"Can I finish bleeding out first?" The man - or angel? - said before he put his own hand on his chest and closed his eyes. A golden light rose from his palm, spreading across him before fading. When it was gone, the man was healed, even his clothes had stitched back together. "That's better."

"This," Castiel said, relaxing minimally now that the man was healed. "Is the Archangel Gabriel."

Dean felt his eyes widen. He knew Archangels were at the top of the celestial hierarchy. His gaze flickers to Sam, seeing the gears turning in the younger man's mind before looking back to the angels.

"Right," Dean said. "And what was that back there?"

"That," Gabriel said, hopping up from the chair. "Was us saving your asses. You're welcome by the way."

From Dean's limited contact with angels, he expected Gabriel to be just as… serious, fierce? Gabriel didn't seem very intimidating.

Gabriel then snapped his fingers, a lollipop materializing in his hand. No, not very intimidating.

"It was Raphael," Castiel took over, as Gabriel seemed preoccupied with the candy. "He was sent to collect you, I gather. I suppose he was assigned to you both because I… I rebelled."

"You rebelled?" Sam asked, wariness fronting in his eyes.

Castiel looked away. "Yes. I'm not - Everything I have done, I have done because I believed in it. I… stopped believing in what my… in what Michael required of me."

"You mean requiring you to use us," Sam spoke, voice hard as steel. "To set  _Lucifer_  free?"

Castiel didn't flinch, but Dean knew that was only because he was an angel. He looked mildly surprised, confirming what he and Sam already suspected. He knew. He had always known, from the moment he took Dean.

"Yes," Castiel said, regret painted across his dimmed features. "I was following orders...but even I could see that Michael was not doing this for the good of humanity. For the little it's worth, I am sorry. And, Dean, I release you from your vow, I regret ever forcing you to make it. Free will should be the heart of Heaven, yet I took that from you. I should never have."

Dean let out a breath. Sam was off the hook, thank god. He turned to Sam and saw… a newfound respect shining in his brother's eyes. Dean couldn't say he didn't share that respect. Dean knew firsthand how hard it was to break ranks for something you believed in. For Castiel to go against his own family for them, Dean knew it was a big deal.

"What does this mean?" Sam asked. "Are they still going after the rings or did they need us to do it?"

Gabriel popped the candy out of his mouth. "Oh, they're definitely going after the rings. They probably just gave you the task to keep you busy. And for you two to start trusting Castiel. If I know my brothers, and I do, Michael won't stop at anything."

"Why now, why us?" Dean asked.

Gabriel's eyes adopted a curious sheen. "They don't know?" He asked to Castiel.

Castiel shook his head and Gabriel sighed. "Strap in boys, it's gonna be a long night."

"Archangels," Gabriel said. "Are a bit different than other angels. We have what's called 'true vessels'. Basically, it's a bloodline thing, yadda, yadda. There is one human on earth that can amplify our grace to its full potential without ever burning out. Dean, you're Michael's true vessel."

"What?" Dean asked, surprise blossoming over his face.

Gabriel looked up. "It means, you can perfectly contain Michael's grace. It's like this: your grand-dad could hold him good, your dad could hold him better, but  _you_ can hold him perfectly."

"But I…," Dean said, because that was heavy. That whole sentence sounded wrong because… well, he wasn't anything special. He was just Dean and honestly, that was all he wanted to be.

"And Sam," Gabriel said, eyes raking over his brother. "You are the vessel of Lucifer."

Now that sparked protest from Dean. "No, no way. That's not happening."

"Makes sense though, right?" Gabriel asked. "But Sam would have to agree to let Lucifer possess him so, I guess we got that going for us."

"I won't," Sam said quietly. "I would never agree to that."

"Won't you?" Gabriel asked. He didn't sound upset, maybe… curious. "If Lucifer was holding a blade to Dean's throat, you wouldn't say yes?"

Sam didn't answer. Dean knew why. Dean knew his brother would say yes. The kid wouldn't even hesitate and damn if that didn't scare Dean.

Gabriel sighed again. "Anyway, Michael's been waiting for you two to be old enough. Lucifer  _is_  going to rise, that much I'm sure of."

Dean knew the question that needed to be asked. He knew neither him or Sam wanted to ask. He also knew that he was the big brother and it was his job to step up when the going got tough. So, he swallowed his fear and asked the question nagging at his mind since he was four years old.

"So, is it true then?" Dean asked tersely. "What they say about Michael and Lucifer?"

Gabriel straightened a little, seeming to scan over them both.

"It depends on what they say," Gabriel said carefully. "Angels… don't have soulbonds like humans. But angels are also… some of us can be unfeeling. Dad wanted to fix that, make us more like humans, so he tried out soulbonds on Michael and Lucifer. It was… great for a while. They were… the brightness of their love lit the whole of Heaven. They were perfect… we all… their love was infectious and angels, well. We were  _happy_  for the first time."

"What happened?" Dean asked, bracing himself. That was all about flush with the old stories. It changed when… when Lucifer and Michael laid together. That poisoned their love and… it all went wrong.

"There was a force," Gabriel said, his eyes glazing over with faraway memories. "An almost unstoppable force of pure evil and Darkness. To defeat it, Gob imposed a… a curse onto Lucifer. It gave him unimaginable power but it corrupted his ability to love. Slowly, it infected his bond with Michael, turning the love into hate. God thought Lucifer was strong enough to control the curse but… he wasn't. He didn't stand a chance. God realized that and... he ordered Michael to send a weakened Lucifer to Hell. Then he left. I guess he was devastated… I don't know."

Dean's knees  _almost_  gave out. It wasn't - it was a curse that made Lucifer and Michael fail. It  _wasn't_  because they were inherently brothers and soulmates. It was a  _curse_. Dean felt relieved, scared… a bit angry. He didn't fully understand the last one.

"Right," he heard Sam say. Turning to his brother, he saw a controlled mask, crafted so carefully that even Dean had to really look to see the emotion underneath. "Right."

After that, Sam left the room. He didn't leave the cabin, just stalked off to another room. Dean decided against going after him. Sam needed to think right then and Dean needed to let him. He knew Sam only left because his composure was at its breaking point. Sam was the kind of person who never let you see him weak. He only let the people he trusted the most see him in that state. And even those times were few and far between.

"You know," Gabriel had a thoughtful look, twirling his lollipop. "He  _does_ remind me a lot of Lucifer."

Dean's eyes flashed. "Hey."

"Woah," Gabriel held his hands up. "Hang on there, brother bear, I meant before, you know? The old Lucy, the good one. That was a  _compliment_."

That was a bit thought-provoking. In Dean's world, the devil was so ingrained in his culture that… everyone knew he was pure evil. He was everyone's first real villain. To think that he was once good, that he shared characteristics with Sam, was dizzying. But again, Dean was a hunter, so  _accept, adapt, move on._

"Well," Gabriel said. "This place will need some stronger warding now that Raphael is actively searching for it. I'll go do that. Play nice."

Gabriel disappeared, leaving Dean alone with the other angel. Castiel looked tired, maybe a bit defeated, just standing near the edge of the couch. Dean felt a bit awkward, so he decided to break the silence.

"So," Dean cleared his throat. "Does it work both ways? The seeing-eyes thing. With angels and humans, I mean?"

Castiel looked up, then shook his head. "I only see gray in the eyes of humans. Though, over the years, I've heard human eyes are one of the most beautiful sights."

Dean nodded, because Sam's were, at least. "Sammy says my eyes are green. Well. He added some more detail but… basically, he said they're green."

"Green is often regarded as the colour of life," Castiel offered, then seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Could I ask a question of a personal nature?"

Dean shrugged because that could be a lot of things. "Go for it."

"I couldn't help but realize that… you and your soulmate do not act as soulmates tend to," Castiel said. "I have watched humanity for thousands of years, since the beginning and… I have never seen soulmates act so distant from each other."

"Me and Sam aren't normal… soulmates," Dean swallowed on the word. He would have usually told the asker of such a question to shut the hell up but… Dean found himself wanting to answer. "I thought… I guess I thought I was gonna hurt him or somethin', you know? Like I was… Sam's got this thing about going along with something I want, even if he don't want it."

"You feared you would take advantage of him?" Castiel summed up and Dean winced at the words because they were pretty damn accurate.

"He's my little brother," Dean gave as an explanation. "It's my job to look after him, not… not what  _I_ want. Not even what he wants most of the time. I just need to do want he needs."

"And if he needs you?"

"He's got me."

"In every capacity?" Castiel asked, his eyebrows scrunching together. "The only reason you two were born as what you are is because you had to be the perfect vessels. You and Sam aren't as different as you may think. It must be hurting you to deny the bond… and eventually, it will kill you. Both of you. Bonds feed from two souls. If the bond only has one, it will take too much and your soul will burn itself out."

Dean's eyes darted to the side. He knew that, everyone knew that. He hoped it would be different for them. That their bond was somehow weaker than other because they were brothers. He hoped they could deny it and be fine. Having it spelled out like that was unsettling.

"I know."

"Perhaps you should speak to him, your brother," Castiel suggested. "He seemed distressed."

Dean nodded and tapped a hand against his leg in thought. Castiel was actually turning out to be much less of a dick than he thought.

"I think I will," Dean said, turning to the general direction Sam went. "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel looked a bit surprised at either the nickname or thanks, but he offered a small smile. It was a very small smile, but it seemed truly genuine, as if he was greatly pleased he managed to help.

* * *

Sam was sitting on the unmade bed, thoughts of the earlier conversation running through his head. He felt drained. Their whole life, their whole fucking life was built around a lie. Everything was always Michael and fucking Lucifer. 'Don't to that because Michael did that!' 'Don't do this because Lucifer did this!'

Sam actually had begun to think that maybe - just maybe - that had meant something. Michael and Lucifer were real, so maybe his and Dean's suffering  _meant_  something. Realizing that it meant nothing made ice prickle at his shoulders. It meant nothing.

Years of pain meant nothing.

Years of shame and hiding and feeling like a failure for being born  _meant nothing._

Their lives had meant nothing.

Everyone around them was dying. Their mom, their dad, Jessica. Who was next? Bobby? He didn't want to think about that. But then again, it was fine, right? Because apparently he was damned from birth to be Lucifer's fucking war-suit. Soulmates were supposed to bring unimaginable happiness but Sam just felt cold.

It meant nothing. The sentence wouldn't stop repeating in his mind, taunting him. Leading him down a road of dark thoughts.

Sam jumped when he felt a weight on his shoulder, he didn't have to look up to recognize Dean's hand. He must have been deep in his mind to not have heard his brother approach.

"Hey," Dean said, beckoning Sam to look at him. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"It means nothing," Sam's voice broke on the last word, stubborn tears burning his eyes. He brought up a hand to stop the tears, but Dean intercepted his wrist and pulled him down into a hug instead.

Sam took to Dean's embrace like a starving man, latching onto his brother. Sam felt small in Dean's unyielding arms. No matter how much he outgrew Dean physically, his brother would always be a thousand feet tall to Sam. Sam's fingers dug into the back of Dean's shirt, crushing the fabric in a white-knuckled grip. Dean returned the embrace just as fiercely. In all honesty, it hurt Sam to be held so tight but he  _needed_  it and Dean understood that because he always did.

"It doesn't mean nothing," Dean's voice was final, leaving no room for argument or suggestion. "I'm here, you're here. As long as that's true, it will never mean nothing. You are my soulmate, Sam Winchester, and by god do I love you... but I have no idea how to."

Sam released a shuddering breath. Had Dean  _ever_  admitted that out loud?

"Neither do I," Sam said, his voice shaky and words muffled by Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, well," Dean said, his voice quieter now. "I know it isn't exactly the best time, with the end being nigh and all but… if you're willing to learn, so am I."

Sam had to pull back, to look Dean in the eyes. To know if he was serious. Once Sam stared at those deep green irises, the coldness retreated, no match for the love Dean conveyed.

It  _didn't_ mean nothing, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean countered in his mind. And Sam knew then which voice to trust. It was the voice he had always trusted.

Sam found no mockery in the forest of Dean's eyes. Just determination and love.

Sam already knew, but the question still formed on his tongue.

"You really mean it?"

Dean answer was to stop. Lean in before stopping again, taking a breath, and softly pressing his lips against Sam's.

Warmth flooded Sam's body so quickly he had to physically grasp onto Dean to stop from falling over. The heat in his veins was almost painful as Dean deepened the kiss just slightly.

Just like with the two other kisses he had shared with his soulmate, Sam was in Heaven. He didn't believe it could get any better than this. This kiss felt somehow different than the others. The other two had been quick, desperate, out of pure need. This one felt…  _romantic_ , passionate. Like a kiss between lovers.

Before long, Dean had reluctantly pulled back.

"I can't-," Dean whispered, his words only for Sam's ears. "I might be a slow learner… I'll haveta unlearn a lot but… I'll try, Sammy. For you and me, I'll try."

And really, what more could he ask of his broth - his soulmate. No, his brother  _and_ his soulmate.

Sam smiled at the thought.

* * *

 


	7. Crumble The Kingdom

**Chapter Seven: Crumble The Kingdom**

 

**Note: I’m afraid to say this story is nearing its end… big plans for the end. Thank you to everyone who has liked/read/ reviewed and please enjoy!**

 

* * *

 

_ Like a rainbow _

_   
_ _ Oh, like a rainbow _

_   
_ _ Can't remember when _

_   
_ _ I last saw you laughing _

 

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean fell asleep in each other’s embrace that night. There were two beds in the room Gabriel had shown the brothers, but they were both laid on one, entwined together. 

 

Castiel watched the two brothers for hours while they slept. This was the reason he rebelled. Love, perseverance, determination. Three things so distinctly human that Castiel had trouble defining them. To Castiel,  _ human _ was not just being born as a  _ Homo sapien _ . To be human was to feel the greatest peak of love and be always in control of one’s own destiny. Humans, over thousands of years, never gave up. They had plagues and wars and disasters and yet… they rebuilt, they lived on. They never forgot, but they lived on. 

 

That’s what Castiel thought being human was - to live on in the pursuit of love.  

 

Castiel envied that, so he decided to emulate it. His actions the past few days had been much more human than angel. 

 

Castiel could sense it when Gabriel’s presence returned to the cabin. Since meeting Gabriel, Castiel had been quite curious about him. The Archangel was like no other he had ever met. Gabriel was eccentric, flippant, a jester. However, Castiel knew that was a farce. Sam and Dean may not be able to sense it, but Castiel could. 

 

Gabriel was an Archangel and had just as much power as the other Archangels. In less than moments, Gabriel could level entire cities by blinking. Somehow, to Castiel, that concealed power made him feel more intimidating than even Michael. 

 

Castiel left the boy’s room soundlessly, heading back to the main room where Gabriel was sat on the couch. He looked a little drained and was lazily eating the chocolate bar in his right hand. Castiel didn’t understand how Gabriel liked human foods, they always tasted of nothing to him. 

 

“Hey, bro,” Gabriel greeted. “How’re they doing?” 

 

“Sam and Dean are both currently asleep,” Castiel reported. “I believe they… worked things out beforehand.” 

 

“Good,” Gabriel said. “Castiel, I’m going to be honest with you. I can fight Raphael and on a good day, I can even win. But I can’t fight Michael. I’ve sparred with the guy thousands of times and never won once. Lucifer was the only one who could best him…” 

 

Castiel made a face, which Gabriel must have noticed. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“It’s just…,” Castiel struggled for the words. “It is… odd, hearing Lucifer’s name said so casually. He is a taboo subject to angels. Michael has locked angels away for just saying his name.” 

 

Gabriel looked… sad, but not surprised. “Yeah, he would. You have to remember, Cassie, for a long, long time, it was just us. Me, Raphael, Lucifer, Michael, and Father. We all had a special bond with each other. I love Lucifer, I always have and I know I always will. He’s my big brother, ya know? Taught me all my tricks.” 

 

“Angels don’t have such a strong sense of family anymore,” Castiel offered. Gabriel’s tone cut into his chest… the sadness was so old, so deep. 

 

“I know,” Gabriel paused. “Family is supposed to be everything to angels. Angels are our family and  _ so are humans _ . Where the hell did we lose sight of that?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered honestly, because he wasn’t old enough to remember those times. But, perhaps, he was young enough to make those times happen again. 

 

He would certainly try. 

 

* * *

 

That morning Dean and Sam sat at what was the most awkward breakfast of their lives. Gabriel had made chocolate pancakes with chocolate chips and made two glasses of chocolate milk. Dean had never seen so much chocolate in one meal. 

 

He could almost feel Sam’s inner panic at the sight, the health-freak that his brother was. However, neither of them wanted to piss the uber-power angel off, so they ate. It was… well, it was honestly the best damn breakfast Dean had ever tasted. Sam must have felt the same, as he finished all of it, which was pretty rare for his picky little brother. 

 

No one spoke during the meal, well, Gabriel sung - badly - but that was it. Gabriel insisted they ate before anymore planning could be done so they did, quickly. Once they were done, Gabriel snapped his fingers, vanishing the plates and glasses. 

 

It was casual displays of power like that which served to remind Dean he was in the presence of an Archangel. 

 

“So,” Sam said, prompting one of them to speak. 

 

“So,” Gabriel grumbled. “I always hate the ‘so’, can’t we just have a good time without a ‘so’? Don’t answer that.” 

 

“We can’t stay here long,” Castiel said. 

 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “And where is ‘here’, exactly?” 

 

“Technically?” Gabriel flashed a smile. “No-where. It’s more of a… traveling illusion. On your dimension, we’re still in the house we took you from. This is… I suppose it’s an unused part of Heaven. Don’t really remember; I made it a long time ago.” 

 

Dean saw Sam’s eyebrows raise and his eyes fill with questions. 

 

“But,” Gabriel continued. “Castiel’s right. With both Michael and Raphael searching, it’s only a matter of time before they find us. I could hide myself well enough but… you three make it harder. So, we’ll be needing a plan. Sam! You look like a good strategist, any suggestions?” 

 

“Um,” Sam looked taken aback. “Well, our goal is to stop Michael from freeing Lucifer, right?” 

 

“That’s about the thick of it, yeah,” Gabriel said. 

 

“And he needs the rings to do that so… maybe we can get them before Michael does?” Sam said, then stopped and turned to Castiel. “Wait, do you still have War’s ring?” 

 

Castiel looked down. “I handed it over to Michael.” 

 

“Anyway,” Gabriel intervene. “You can bet your ass Michael already has Famine and Pestilence rings. Angels aren’t  _ supposed  _ to fight the Horsemen, but Michael isn’t playing by the rules right now. That just leaves Death.” 

 

“What’s special about that one?” Dean asked.  

 

“Death is different from the others. The other three are the masters of their craft, while Death is the very embodiment of his. He  _ is _ Death and while there are… certain ways to kill him, it’s very hard. Michael doesn’t have the power to do it… Lucifer might have, though,” Gabriel said the last part quietly, almost to himself. “The point is, Death isn’t likely to give his ring up soon and Michael can’t take it. That’ll buy us some time.” 

 

“How much does Castiel help?” Sam asked bluntly. “Against, say, Raphael, how much would Castiel’s presence improve your chances?” 

 

Gabriel seemed thoughtful, his eyes brushing over Castiel. “It’s hard to say, I’ve never fought with him. But, by his grace, I’d say a lot. Raphael and I are pretty evenly matched, Castiel, I would say, is worth at least eight normal angels. He would certainly tip the scales.” 

 

Castiel straightened at the praise, his eyes wide. Dean wondered if he held himself in the same high regard that Gabriel seemed to. By his shocked face, Dean would guess the answer was no. 

 

“We would have a better chance at stopping Michael if Raphael is out of the picture,” Sam reasoned. “Could you kill him?” 

 

Gabriel hesitated. “I… I don’t know. No matter his crimes, he’s my brother. And he isn’t - he’s only following orders.” 

 

“Do you think you could get him to join us?” Dean suggested instead. 

 

“No,” Gabriel said honestly. “He would never raise a hand against Michael. Best case, I might be able to get him to become a neutral party. But if… if it came down to humanity or Raphael, I would choose humanity. We swore to protect humans and, unlike my brothers, I will uphold that promise. Raphael would understand. At least the one I knew would.” 

 

Dean nodded. He couldn’t help but admire Gabriel for that. He would kill his brother for the sake of the world. Dean wasn’t nearly as good. 

 

Dean wouldn’t kill Sam to save the world, but he would kill the world to save Sam. 

 

He wondered if that made him any better than Michael. 

 

Probably not, but Dean always knew he wasn’t the hero of his story.

 

“We need to confront Raphael on our own terms,” Gabriel continued. “Soon.” 

 

“What happens,” Sam asked, thinking. “If we die? I mean, they need us, right?” 

 

“They would just bring you back,” Gabriel waved off. “Again, against the rules, but they’d do it.” 

 

“Is an Archangel close to regular angels?” Sam asked instead. “Like, can angel blades kill them and holy fire trap them?” 

 

Gabriel held up his hand and tilted it, a so-so gesture. “Holy fire would work for a few minutes, but you need an Archangel blade to kill us.” 

 

Gabriel flicked his wrist, an old blade appearing in his hand. It was smaller than a normal angel blade, its metal was wavy and uneven, the handle woven of tightly wrapped cloth. He held it up before shaking his hand and vanishing the weapon. 

 

“Here’s the plan,” Gabriel said. “I’m going to take down the warding for a second on one spot. That spot will be circled with holy oil. Castiel, be ready with fire, you’ll have less than a second to light it before Raphael suspects. We’ll go from there. Hopefully, I won’t need to fight, but if I do, Castiel, you’ll fly the boys to the other safehouse I showed you. Everyone got it?” 

 

“We need to do anything?” Dean asked, waving a hand between himself and Sam.  

 

“Don’t talk and try to look as innocent as possible,” Gabriel smiled. “Ready, boys?”   

 

* * *

 

Castiel poured the holy oil in a carefully perfect circle. Gabriel’s usual carefree face was set to a dull seriousness. This would be the first time he spoke to Raphael in thousands of years. He fought him off yesterday, but that was just a clashing of grace, no real contact. He had caught Raphael by surprise that time, this time would be different. He knew only Raphael would come, as Michael was undoubtedly busy with Death. 

 

He hoped Raphael was the same angel he knew all those years ago. Because if he wasn’t, this would go very bad, very fast. 

 

As soon as Gabriel dropped the wards, he felt Raphael fly close. Castiel never faltered in his task, throwing the match into the oil as soon as his presence landed. He saw the humans cover their ears, blocking out the Enochian words Raphael was sputtering. As soon as the fire was lit, Gabriel re-strengthened the wards.       

 

Blue light flashed throughout the room once more. But this time the energy was more frantic, akin to a caged animal trying to escape, clawing at the walls of its prison. Raphael looked just as Gabriel remembered him. Well, his grace did, although his vessel was different.  

 

He looked much less calm, though. Wings of pure lightning flared out behind him, casting a blue glow over his skin, making his electric blue eyes more piercing.

 

His eyes narrowed at the sight of Castiel. But… when he caught sight of Gabriel, his eyes widened and Gabriel felt the room’s energy shift. That reaction gave Gabriel hope that just maybe, their plan could work.     

 

“Long time no see, brother,” Gabriel swallowed before clearing his throat. “How’s home?” 

 

“Gabriel…,” Raphael said. “What - what are you doing consorting with the traitor Castiel and the vessels?” 

 

“Who’s Castiel a traitor to, Raphael?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. 

 

“To Heaven, to us,” Raphael said. “To Father Himself.” 

“Raphael,” Gabriel shook his head. “You know as good as I do that dad’s been gone for a very long time. Michael’s in the hot seat now.” 

 

Raphael looked stricken for a moment before recovering his composure.

 

“How would you know?” Raphael asked, coldly. 

 

That hurt. Raphael was right, he wouldn’t know. If he hadn’t read that message from Castiel, he would still be playing the part of Loki. All fun and games while his family waged war on each other.  

 

“Michael is sick,” Gabriel said, avoiding the question altogether. “You know it, Raphael. Out of all of us, you were always the smartest. You can see it, you  _ have  _ seen it.” 

 

“Maybe he is,” Raphael conceded. “But at least he’s here. Michael and I are the  _ only  _ ones who have stayed true to Heaven. You and Father ran away and Lucifer… The war will be fought and then-” 

 

“So that’s it, isn’t it?” Gabriel said, realization dawning on his face. “You think it’ll all go back to normal after the apocalypse.” 

 

“You and Father left because of Lucifer’s banishment,” Raphael defended. “Besides… you are already back.” 

 

“Brother, no,” Gabriel said, his voice low. “Please listen. We can’t do this. I will fight for humanity and if we fight, one of us will die. If I won, I would fight Michael and I would lose. You’ve seen Michael and Lucifer fight, you know they were evenly matched before. Now that Lucifer bares the Curse? Don’t tell me you are confident Michael will win.” 

 

Raphael wasn’t able to hold his gaze after that. He knew that half the reason Raphael was going through with this was just to see Lucifer again. Gabriel could understand that. He would have given almost anything to see Lucifer again. Even if Lucifer was the worst evil in the world, he was Gabriel’s brother and Gabriel loved him. 

 

“Look,” Gabriel said. “I’m not asking for you to fight with us, I don’t have the right to ask that. All I’m asking is that, when the time comes, you step aside. Would Michael truly blame you for not fighting your own brother?” 

 

Yes, was the answer both of them knew. Raphael didn’t say it though, as it would only prove Gabriel’s point. 

 

“Remember,” Gabriel said. “Castiel rebelled from Michael, not from Father or from Heaven. Think about that, Raphael. When did the interests of Father and Michael begin to differ?” 

 

“I won’t help you... but I won’t fight you either,” Raphael said quietly. “Know that this mercy extends only to yourself, Gabriel, out of respect to the bond we once had.” 

 

“Thank you, Raphael,” Gabriel said, nodding. He allowed his grace to brush over Raphael’s. The other angel held the contact for a moment before ripping away, spreading his wings, and taking flight. 

 

The speed of his wings doused the holy fire and made the humans flinch. 

 

“Woah, woah,” Dean said, his voice louder, likely due to the ringing in his ears. “How long could he do that for?” 

 

Gabriel shrugged. Raphael had broken the wards thirty seconds into his capture, but Gabriel took a gamble. Luckily, he still knew his brother.  

 

“I’d call that a success,” Gabriel sighed. He hated calling it that but he knew he’d gotten the best he could. “Now we have to figure out what to do about Michael.”    

 

“You said he couldn’t get Death’s ring,” said Sam.

 

Personally, Gabriel was really starting to like the youngest Winchester… he reminded Gabriel of Lucifer. He would be more like Lucifer if he let loose a little though, Gabriel got a real uptight vibe from him. 

 

“It’s only a matter of time,” Gabriel said. “Michael has the full power of Heaven behind him and that carries a lot of weight. I’m not sure how he’ll do it, but he will. We need to prepare for the worst.”

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel left soon after the confrontation with Raphael. He said he needed to talk to some old friends, but he didn’t say who or where he was going. Honestly, Dean didn’t like the secrets but… Gabriel had proven a great ally so far. 

 

Dean’s courage from the night before had said ‘sayonara’ and packed up. Why did he say that? Was it true? Yes. It was and that’s what made it so bad. Sam kept giving him these side glances, smiling with bright eyes. That was worth it. 

 

Dean did mean what he said. He truly did want to try and make their bond work. But he also meant it when he said he had no idea how. He had spent his whole life pushing… romantic feelings for Sam far away. Kissing Sam felt freaking incredible, but it also left lingering guilt in Dean’s stomach. He wondered why Sam could just… feel so freely. 

 

He knew Sam would want to talk or  _ kiss _ more that night. 

 

It was funny, Dean always seemed to know exactly what to say when Sam was upset, but words failed him when Sam was okay. 

 

Sam had finally managed to corner him in ‘their’ room. Sam had that look on his face. It was that childish look that only Sam could pull off. It was the look he had when Dean teased him about having a surprise for him. Usually, whenever he had to leave Sam, he’d bring back a chocolate bar or some other type of candy. 

 

Those were the days, when he could light up Sammy’s world with just a candy bar. 

 

“So…,” Sam said, his stupid puppy-eyes coming on in full force. 

 

“So?” Dean asked, brow raised. “Guess we need to wait until Gabriel works out whatever he’s doing.” 

 

“I meant, about us,” Sam gave a shy smile. 

 

“How about we just start with this, sleeping on the same bed?” Dean gestured to the unmade bed.

 

Sam’s eyes sparked and… was it just him, or did those eyes look brighter? Yes, they did. Dean had been memorizing those eyes since he was four, he damn well knows what they look like. They were  _ definitely  _ brighter. The light goldens laced around the hazel, glowing like sun shards. 

 

Dean couldn’t deny it felt easier to breathe. They had denied the bond since Sam’s  _ birth _ . But now… now they were letting it breathe. Or they were trying and Dean liked to think the bond knew that. 

 

Dean always knew denying the bond wasn’t healthy. It made Sam angry, defiant, resentful. It made Dean the opposite. For Dean, his emotions were stripped away, allowing the slightest suggestions to greatly influence him. It made him into the perfect soldier and Dean hated that. 

 

But he wasn’t that anymore. If Gabriel’s words were true, he was in Heaven. 

 

He was walking where angels fly. 

 

“Dean?” Sammy asked, slowly walking over to Dean and sitting beside him. “Can I… can I kiss you?”    

 

Dean looked up at his brother. This wasn’t wrong. Sam was asking, he initiated this. He wanted this. This wasn’t wrong. 

 

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice low. He cupped Sam’s cheek in one hand and pulled him down. Their lips touched and the warmth return to Dean’s veins. 

 

A warmth that burned away everything that wasn’t it. It burned away his dad’s disgusted words, the echoes of false history. Dean allowed himself to bathe in that pure warmth before slowly pulling away. 

 

Sam was looking at him like he held the world in his eyes. Which to Sam, he might. He learned a long time ago that Sam needed him just as much as he needed Sam. How he had survived four years without his little brother eluded him. He almost hadn’t. More than once he almost… he almost did something he would have regretted. But the knowledge that Sam wouldn’t have survived that kept his gun safely locked away. 

 

“Lay down with me?” Dean asked and Sam kissed him again. 

 

* * *

 

“Raphael,” Michael practically purred. “I have a plan.” 

 

“Yes?” Asked the other Archangel. 

 

Michael sighed, scanning the room. His usually impeccable office had fallen into disarray. He was too busy, too close, to maintain it all. His mind was wild, he was so  _ close _ to killing his Lucifer. So close. So close. He felt… his mind was beginning to slip, but he was just so close - how couldn’t it? 

“That overrated Horseman thinks he can defy me, brother,” Michael said. “He believes he can defy Heaven itself! Does he forget we are above him, my dear brother? Does he forget who he serves when the day ends? If he has, rest assured, we will  _ make _ him remember.” 

 

“Yes,” Raphael seemed distracted, but honestly Michael could care less. “How will we accomplish this, Michael?” 

 

Michael’s grin turned lethal. “Close the Gates.”  

 

“What?” Raphael’s eyes snapped up. “What Gates?” 

 

“The Gates of Heaven, you idiot,” Michael’s eyes burned molten. “Not another soul passes into Heaven until I get that ring.” 

 

“Brother please!” Raphael blurted out. “This is our fight, humans needn’t suffer for us.” 

 

Michael’s grace lashed out, knocking Raphael back, causing him to double over in pain. 

 

“You answer to me,” Michael whispered. “This is  _ my _ war and I intend to win,  _ brother _ , by any means necessary. I don’t care who suffers to make it happen, even you.” 

 

Michael banished Raphael’s presence from his sight. He held out his left hand. On his vessel’s fingers were the three rings he already had. Soon, Death’s ring will be his and he will finally defeat Lucifer. But, preparations still needed to be made, a few beings needed to die. It would be perfect, the Death of Lucifer. 

 

Perfect. 

 

* * *

 

Gabriel came back late that night and called the brothers into the main room. From the grim look on his face, Sam could tell he didn’t have good news to share. The angel looked tired, yet Sam could see anger in undercurrents rippling over his skin. 

 

“I went to speak with Death,” Gabriel said once they had assembled. “I didn’t know if he would answer me, but he did.” 

 

“What’d he say?” Dean asked, like it was perfectly normal to go have a chit-chat with Death. Sam guessed that was their normal now.   

 

“Michael,” Gabriel breathed deeply. “Closed Heaven’s gates.” 

 

Sam heard the sharp intake of breath from Castiel, who looked like someone had just poured a bucket of ice water down his back. 

 

“What does that mean?” Sam asked. 

 

“It means no more souls will be allowed entrance to Heaven,” Gabriel said, his face pained. “See how that might be a problem for Death? Death has to send souls somewhere, or at least his reapers do. If he can’t access Heaven, he’ll have to leave them as ghosts. Think about it - about a hundred people die  _ every minute _ . The world would be overrun by ghosts within days. Death can’t allow that.” 

 

“Then…,” Dean started but stopped, at a loss. 

 

Sam wasn’t fairing much better. Michael may have been a huge dick, but this? This was a new low. He wondered just how desperate Michael must be. He wondered, for a moment, if Michael’s love was ever as strong as his hate. 

 

“But,” Gabriel said. “Before Death does anything, he did agree to a meeting.” 

 

“Awesome,” Dean said. “What are you gonna say?” 

 

“Actually,” Gabriel said, eyes shifting to Sam. “He only agreed to meet with Sam.”     

 

“What?” Dean gave a short laugh. “Yeah, not happening. If Sam’s going, so am I.” 

 

Gabriel shrugged. “Death said he would meet with Sam or no one.” 

 

“Why Sam?” Dean asked and Sam could tell he was about to get angry. “Aren’t you running this ship?” 

 

“Look, I don’t know, okay?” Gabriel said. “That’s what the man said and - if I remember correctly - Sam’s his own person. So let him answer, would you?” 

 

All eyes turned on him and Sam lost his words. Dean was giving him that do-it-and-I’ll-kill-you look, while Gabriel and Castiel looked mildly curious. 

 

“What would I even say?” He settled on. 

 

“Sam!” Dean protested. 

 

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “You can't convince him to  _ help _ \- Death never chooses sides. He might have something to tell you, though. He asked for you on his own accord.” 

 

“Well,” Sam said. “Every little bit helps, right? If he wants to tell me something, I’m willing to listen.” 

 

Sam would be lying if he said he was curious as to why Death himself wanted to talk to him. Gabriel would have been the obvious choice in Sam’s mind, he was kind of the leader by default of their little band of misfits. 

 

But Sam knew that war was coming, a real war. A war so great that even humans couldn’t outdo it. Sam knew that people loved to believe in angels and demons in the abstract alone. So many people in his world claimed to be devout. And yet, you tell them you’ve met an angel, and they lock you up in insane asylums. 

 

He knew that they weren’t getting much help with this endeavor. He and Dean were just two unlucky kids… they weren’t chosen ones or heroes. But, perhaps, it wasn’t Sam’s place to decide that. When has a hero ever asked to be one? 

 

Real heroes don’t want to be heroes. Because, to be a hero, there must be a villain. A hero without a villain is just a villain in denial.   

 

Ability and will, Sam thought. Anyone with the will and ability to fight the bad guys was a hero. 

 

Sam had the will, but did he have the ability? 

 

He supposed only time would reveal that.      

* * *


	8. Long Live The King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait but the rest of the outline is all done, so I should be updating faster now :) Hope you all like it.

**Chapter Eight:** **Long Live The King**

**____**

_ This world makes you crazy   _

_   
_ _ And you've taken all you can bear _

_   
_ _ Just call me up _

_   
_ _ 'Cause I will always be there _

**_____**

To say Dean was unhappy would be a terribly vast understatement. Nothing Sam had tried would convince Dean this was a good idea. Truth bound, Sam himself didn’t even think this was a  _ great _ idea, but it wasn’t like they had that many options. 

 

He had no idea why Death wanted to speak with him, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t know and he needed to. Dean didn’t seem to understand that. 

 

“Look, Dean,” Sam argued, running a hand through his messy hair. “We don’t exactly have the upper hand here, you know? We need all the information we can get.” 

 

“Yeah, and if it’s not information?” Dean scoffed. “Sammy, Death’s working’ for Michael now, got me? As long as Michael’s got the Heaven card, Death’s his bitch. So, sorry if I think it’s pretty damn likely that this is a trap.” 

 

“I’ll have Gabriel with me,” Sam protested weakly, cursing his word choice. He sounded like a twelve-year-old trying to convince his big brother to let him go out with friends.  

 

“So?” Dean flicked his hand palm up. “Number one, Gabriel can’t win against Michael. Number two, how the fuck long have we known him? How can we trust him after, what, a day?” 

 

Sam’s eyes found the floor. He knew why Dean was so protective. Hell, if it was flipped, he would be the same way. But, this was just something he needed to do. He felt it, down to his bones. He knew he was young, but he wasn’t a child. He hadn’t been a child for a very long time. This might be a mistake and if it was, he’d accept every ‘I told you so’ his brother threw at him… but this was  _ his _ choice and he made up his mind. 

 

“Dean,” Sam said, his voice low, compelling Dean’s attention. “It isn’t about trusting Gabriel; it’s about trusting  _ me _ . Dean, I put my life in your hands every single day and there’s no one I trust more than you. So, I’m asking, please, trust me too. Just… trust me to make the right choice.” 

 

Sam watched Dean swallow. He started to respond, but stopped and looked down, a deep breath rippling through him. 

 

“I trust you, Sammy.” 

 

And that was that.    

 

* * *

 

When Gabriel flew them to the meeting place, Sam couldn’t help but scoff.

 

Sam had expected a graveyard or some abandoned Victorian manor… not a pizza parlor. With his hunter’s eyes, he immediately noticed the complete lack of humans in the area. Not just the parking lot, but the whole street seemed void of life. Not even birds sat in the surrounding trees. A shiver ran down Sam’s spine as he wondered if that was Death’s work. 

 

He turned to ask Gabriel but found the angel was gone. Great, Sam thought, his brother was going to lose his shit if the angel went back without Sam in tow.  

 

Sighing, Sam walked through the double doors of the building, or as the sign read,  _ Nicolò's.  _

 

The restaurant was also vacant, bar a man sitting at the center table. The man looked like a corpse, paper white skin stretched over jutting cheekbones. He was clad in all black wear, with a walking-cane leaned against his table. He never even looked up when Sam entered, just continued staring at the menu laid on the checkered tablecloth. 

 

Cautiously, Sam walked over to the table and the pale man. 

 

“Hello,” Sam said. 

 

“Hm,” the man still didn’t look up. “Sit down, Sam.” 

 

Sam did, taking the seat opposite of Death. 

 

“Do you like pizza, Sam?” He asked, finally looking up to meet Sam’s eyes. Sam was surprised to see Death’s eyes were gray. But it was an odd gray, a swirling gray, like a bottled fog. 

 

Sam realized he had asked a question. “I, uh, yes, it’s okay.” 

 

“Just okay?” Death asked. “Personally, I believe it’s humanity’s best creation.”  

 

Well, that was great. Sam wondered for just a second if this was a joke, but he quickly fled that thought. This man felt much too old, much too powerful to be a joke. This was Death and apparently, Death liked pizza. Well, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen, Sam reasoned.  

 

“It’s good,” Sam amended, shifting in his seat. 

 

Death laid a hand on the table, his long, spider-like fingers tapped against the wood. 

 

“Tell me, Sam,” Death said. “Do you resent me?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Well, I have taken many people from you,” Death elaborated. “And I will take many more. I took your mother, your best friend, your father. One day, I will take your brother and even you yourself. Do you resent me for that?” 

 

Sam swallowed. Did he resent death? He had never really thought about it in such terms. It’s difficult to resent an abstract, but… Death was a person, he now knew. He thought of how those people died, killed by one demon. 

 

Sam understood Death didn’t murder them. He didn’t make them suffer - he ended their suffering. He walked them into Heaven, eternal peace. And yes, one day Dean would die, but so would Sam. 

 

Sam didn’t plan on living without Dean by his side. Humans weren’t made to live forever, Sam knew. After hundreds of years, he would be tired of it all. Tired of the bad always seeming to outweigh the good. He would want to rest and he knew Dean would too. Sam was never a person who seeks immortality, he found the concept exhausting.      

 

“No,” Sam said, his voice sincere. 

 

“Interesting,” Death leaned back in his chair. “Your turn.” 

 

“What?” Sam asked, confused. 

 

“I asked you a question,” Death spread his hands. “And, remarkable, you answered honestly. Now you may ask me one. Ask anything you wish to know.” 

 

There were thousands of questions Sam wanted to ask… but none of them seemed to be important enough to ask Death himself. Sam thought about asking of the war. Asking a way to gain the upper hand, but he knew Death didn’t choose sides. In fact, Sam couldn’t think of anything to ask. 

 

“I don’t have any questions for you,” Sam said quietly. 

 

Death’s gray eyes seemed to lighten. “You don’t? Very interesting. I have given many people that permission before and overall there is one question I’m always asked.” 

 

“What’s that?” Sam asked, his curiosity peaked. 

 

“How to achieve world-peace,” Death laughed, a horrible sound, like stones rubbing together. “But they never like my answer.” 

 

“What is your answer?”       

 

Death shrugged. “Live peacefully. How can you expect others to live in peace if you can’t? Humans always want the easy fix, a magic button to make their problems disappear. What they don’t realize, is in their quest for the shortest path, they end up taking the longest one.” 

 

“What are you trying to tell me?” Sam asked. He could feel a hidden meaning in Death’s words, but he couldn’t yet decipher it. 

 

“Sam,” Death said. “I don’t take sides, I can’t. I will turn my ring over to Michael, no matter how much I loathe to do so. I do this for Michael because the world will suffer if I don’t. Therefore, I believe it’s only fair to help your side as well.” 

 

Sam nodded, this was good. He supposed it was fair, as he thought about it. For Death to remain completely neutral, he couldn’t help one side and not the other. 

 

“What are you going to do?” 

 

“Lucifer  _ is  _ going to rise on the eclipse,” Death said, locking his gray eyes onto Sam’s. “Then, you will have the greatest choice of us all. You could either choose to say yes to Lucifer or to say no. I will tell you now, if you say yes, Lucifer will win; if you say no, Michael will win. Dean’s choice is irrelevant in this course, his choice determines only if he will live or die. Your choice determines the outcome of the war.” 

 

Sam breathed out shakily. The fate of the entire world was bearing down on his shoulders. He wanted to ask Death which choice would keep Dean alive, but he knew Death wouldn’t tell him. He tried to think, to clear his mind. 

 

Which one was better, Lucifer or Michael? Sam honestly didn’t know. Would Michael’s madness dissipate with Lucifer’s death? What did Lucifer want with the world? There were too many unknowns for Sam to formulate a proper response. He felt like he was walking across a minefield blindfolded. 

 

Death stood up as Sam stayed silent. The man grabbed his walking cane and pulled his billowing robes closer. He then put a bony hand on Sam’s shoulder, causing him to look up. 

 

“The choice is yours, Sam,” Death said. “Just know, if you choose incorrectly, I will be a very busy man. And Sam? I am truly sorry.” 

 

Sam understood the words. The deaths of an unimaginable amount of people hindered on Sam’s common-sense. Though, he wasn’t quite sure why Death was sorry. It wasn’t his fault Michael was forcing his hand. He was helping them and Sam was grateful for the information, no matter how grim it was.   

 

* * *

 

“And you didn’t stay with him?” Dean growled. 

 

“For the thousandth time, kid, what part of ‘I’ll speak to Sam  _ alone _ ’ escapes your understanding?” 

 

“The part where you left my brother defenseless with fucking Death.” 

 

“Death’s not going to hurt him,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

 

“You better fucking hope not.” 

 

“I’m sorry, are you  _ threatening _ -” 

 

“Could you both please quiet yourselves,” Castiel interjected from his place by the window. “Sam’s presence is alone now, I believe you should go collect him, Gabriel.”  

 

Gabriel shot a final glare at Dean before snapping out of the room. 

 

“Dick,” Dean muttered. He had made it very clear to Gabriel that he would be playing bodyguard to Sam. He had been furious with the angel when he returned alone and they had been arguing ever since. He knew he shouldn’t have let Sam go. 

 

Seconds later, Gabriel appeared once more with Sam. Immediately, Dean’s eyes scanned over Sam’s form. He didn’t  _ look _ hurt. He did look… a bit shaken. Though Dean supposed, most people who had just spoken to Death would be shaken. 

 

“You okay?” Dean asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Sam said, averting his eyes. “We need to talk.” 

 

Dean’s blood ran colder and colder as Sam told his story, told them what Death had said. Dean was both grateful for the information and angry at Death for putting it on Sam. Sammy had literally just had the fate of the entire world dumped on his shoulders. 

 

Dean knew the obvious choice - say no to Lucifer. But is Michael really any better? Dean ran a hand down his face. 

 

“This is good,” Gabriel said. “Not great, I mean, but useful information. Castiel, you led a battle Garrison, right?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel said. “At least. we were during the wars… though we haven’t fought in a long time.” 

 

“I’m just glad you know how to fight at all,” Gabriel said with a tight smile. “You could’ve been a button-pusher.” 

Castiel grimaced at the words and Dean couldn’t blame the guy, that sounded like a totally suckish job. 

 

“Well, boys,” Gabriel clapped his hands together. “We’ve got a war to win. Let’s not screw it up.” 

 

Dean never claimed to be a smart man. He never claimed too much at all actually. His life had been a constant battle of self-restraint and self-punishment. Every time he felt his eyes wandering over Sam longer than a brother’s eyes should, he felt sick. He would run and run until his vision went blurry and his knees shook. He would do push-ups and sit-ups until he threw up or past out. 

 

His dad had even found him a few times - scolded him for training so hard… yet there was always pride in his eyes at how hard Dean was trying. But Dean always knew that he didn’t deserve that pride. That pride would have been long gone if his father knew the reason behind his long workouts. 

 

The point being, Dean wasn’t the best at handling problems. He found other ways, training, alcohol, playing dumb. He wanted to be there for Sam, to be strong for him but he didn’t know how. 

 

But… Dean  _ did _ have a choice. Not a huge one like Sam, but he did have one. Dean was determined to be there for his brother, to figure it out. Together. 

 

Dean realized then, as the three others were discussing the battle tactics, that he wouldn’t say yes to Michael, he couldn’t. Dean had already made his choice, twenty-two years ago - Dean chose Sam. He couldn’t stand by Sam while being Michael’s puppet.  

 

So whatever Sam chose, Dean would be standing right there next to him. Together, always. 

* * *

 

Sam sighed as he laid back on the clean sheets. He wasn’t sure how Gabriel was doing it, but the room seemed to clean itself while he was away. A childish part of him wanted to stay in the room and try to catch it happening. 

 

Sam’s mind was soaked with the question. Probably the most important question of Sam’s life. 

 

Yes or no. Be a rock ‘em sock ‘em robot for Lucifer or not. 

 

Sam didn’t  _ want  _ to be the vessel for the Archangel… but he was, wasn’t he? It was his destiny. Sam blinked up at the ceiling and thought of Jess. Beautiful, loving Jess. Jess loved blue butterflies and the rising sun. She preferred wine to beer and always bought coloured glasses. She hated the snow and loved the rain. She daydreamed about her soulmate and danced with the elegance of the moon. She planned on getting a bluebird tattooed on her shoulder for her birthday. She always wanted kids and would talk about the trip to Disney World she wanted to take. 

 

Not of that would ever happen now. Sam wondered who her soulmate was… and how they would never know how she really died. 

 

He knew there was a Heaven now… he was in it, wasn’t he? He wondered if Jess was here too - she had to be.  

 

A creaking door interrupted his thoughts. Opening his eyes, Sam saw a thoughtful Gabriel standing in the doorway. 

 

“Hey,” Gabriel said, a bit sheepishly. “Your energy dropped. I wanted to check.” 

 

“My energy?” Sam asked absently, pushing himself up, sitting. “Gabriel?” 

 

“Hm?”

 

“Can you,” Sam stumbled. “Can you tell if someone’s in Heaven?” 

 

“Oh totally,” Gabriel smiled. “You think they named just anyone an Archangel?” 

 

“I mean,” Sam said. “If I said a name, would you be able to, I don’t know, sense them or something.” 

 

Gabriel tilted his head. “Or something, why?” 

 

“Jessica Moore,” Sam said quickly before he lost his nerve. 

 

“Jessica Moore,” Gabriel mumbled, his eyes far away again. “Hm, she was your friend? She’s here alright, with a Heaven of memories and gardens. A beautiful Heaven.” 

 

Sam felt his eyes get hot. “Really?”   
  


Gabriel nodded, a soft smile on his face that seemed to age him a few years. “It wasn’t hard - she’s got a real bright soul.” 

 

Sam nodded sadly. “I just wished she got to find her soulmate before she… before.” 

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” Gabriel winked. “Haven’t you heard soulmates share a Heaven. When her soulmate dies, they’ll find her here.” 

 

Sam smiled, “Thank you.” 

 

Gabriel shrugged. “You have a big choice ahead of you, Sam. And I - I wish I could tell you what to do. I wish I knew what to do. I used to know my brothers better than myself but I’m afraid those days are long gone. I’ll always love Michael and Lucifer but… they have to be stopped. Please, Sam, stop them. I think you’re the only one who can anymore.” 

 

Sam wanted to ask about his mom and dad, were they here? Were they together? Were they… happy? But Sam didn’t think he could handle it if the answer was no. His father hadn’t been the best man, but he had tried. He had killed and cheated and lied… and honestly, Sam wanted to hold onto his ignorant bliss for just a little longer. 

 

Sam watched Gabriel as he left the room, thinking about his parting words. Gabriel’s plea should have added more weight to Sam’s shoulders but… it didn’t. It actually seemed to lighten the load. It gave Sam hope. Gabriel’s faith in him, in just the power of his instinct… it gave Sam hope.  

 

When Dean came in the room to sleep, Sam was more relaxed. He felt Dean’s faith as well as they laid intertwined with each other. Sam drifted to sleep with thoughts of war and faith. 

 

It was difficult for Sam to fall asleep that night, which was odd because every since he began sleeping beside Dean, sleep came quickly and stayed long. This time, it took hours for sleep to claim his consciousness. His normal sleep was soft, his eyes drifting from image to image. That night, however, his eyes felt like they were being ripped from his world into another. He felt physical pain, unlike anything he had felt in dreams before.  

 

Once he was asleep he saw flashes of deep red and black. Cold chains and sharp metal. The images were blurring almost… almost as if the  _ images _ themselves were in a different language. There were colours Sam had never seen before and objects he didn’t understand.   

 

“Sam.” 

 

Ice, colder than it should be. Colder than anything Sam had ever felt, a sticky cold that clung to his very soul. 

 

“Sam.” 

 

Fire, hotter than it should be. Hotter than anything Sam had ever felt, a hot that burned away every inch of his body. 

 

“Sam.” 

 

Pain. 

 

“Sam?” 

 

Warmth. 

 

“Sam!”

 

Safe. 

 

“Sammy!”

 

Love. 

 

Sam’s eyes snapped open, his hand striking out, only to be caught by Dean. Dean held his wrist down, his eyes wide and concerned. 

 

“Hey, hey,” Dean whispered. “It’s okay, Sammy.” 

 

“No,” Sam gasped, not seeming to get enough air with each breath. “Who? Where…?” 

 

“You’re with me, Sammy,” Dean said, his hand rubbing up and down his shoulder. “Right here with me.” 

 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Wasn’t. Hurts.”

 

“What hurts?” Dean asked, more frantic now. “C’mon, Sammy, you gotta talk to me here. I’m gonna need more than one word, okay? Just breathe. In and out, like me.” 

 

Dean grabbed Sam’s hand and held it over his chest, allowing Sam to feel the deliberate rise and fall of Dean’s breathing. Sam struggled to copy his brother’s movements, his fingers curling in the fabric of Dean’s shirt as he slowed his breathing. 

 

Sam was no stranger to nightmares, as he had been dealing with them ever since he was a little kid. But never did he have a nightmare that felt so feel. In fact, it was  _ so _ real that it convinced Sam it wasn’t just a dream. He was there, or some part of his consciousness was. He was in a large metal box with a man harboring red eyes. 

 

He had met Lucifer.  

 

He felt sick. That alluring, razor-edged voice had been Lucifer’s, slowly morphing into his brother’s. Sam wondered if Lucifer was gaining power. Sam had never felt such intense fear like he did with just the illusion of Lucifer. 

 

It was then Sam knew that every fiber of good Lucifer ever had was long gone, burned away by the curse. Hate and hate and hate was all that remained. 

 

It was then Sam made his choice. He would  _ never _ say yes to that monster.

 

* * *

 

“Honestly, Michael, I don’t have time for your  _ family issues _ ,” Azazel said, annoyance clear on his face. “I was nice enough when Castiel strayed from the script and  _ now _ you tell me your long-lost little brother has decided to make a guest appearance.” 

 

“You think I  _ wanted _ this to happen?” Michael huffed. “Of course I didn’t... but I can’t exactly help it, now can I?” 

 

“This is  _ war _ , Michael, not a daytime show,” Azazel sneered, holding out his palm. “Rings.” 

 

Michael narrowed his eyes. “I will be summoning Lucifer.” 

 

“No,” Azazel said tersely. “Look, you want a fair fight, right? You said that yourself. Lucifer needs a temporary vessel before we get Sam, just as you have one now.”

 

Michael was clearly unhappy with the plan. He wanted to summon his brother, to see that true form once again. However, the demon had a point. He probably wouldn’t be able to hold back if he saw Lucifer in front of him. The battle needed to happen with both of them at full power, in the Vessels. 

 

Michael looked down at the rings on his hand, the keys to Lucifer’s freedom and Lucifer’s death. Michael sighed as he carefully plunked the rings from his fingers and handed them to the demon. 

 

Azazel held them like the treasured artifact they were, his eyes flashing yellow. 

 

“And when, exactly, will my brother rise?” Michael asked, failing to keep the desperate curiosity from his voice.   

 

“Sooner than you think.” 

 

* * *

 

The next three days passed in a haze. Sam and Dean were lore-bombed with every inch of information Gabriel had to offer. Dean was keeping a careful eye on his brother. Ever since his nightmare, Sam had been acting more determined than Dean had ever seen him. His face was set in stone, making his brother look older than he was. Sam’s face was supposed to be carefree and alight. 

 

A certain darkness had settled around Sam as well. Dean remembered Bobby once told him Sam had a darkness inside of him. At the time, Dean had been upset by the words, denying his brother was anything but pure and good. Now, though, Dean could see what Bobby had been talking about. No matter what Dean thought personally, Sam wasn’t as pure as Dean pretended he was. 

 

It was that Sam was bad or evil, that was even further from the truth. But, Sam was more grounded than Dean. He knew what needed to be done and he would do it - no matter the cost. And Dean knew Sam had one goal in mind - keep Dean safe and alive. 

 

Sam hadn’t asked Dean’s opinion on his choice. Dean understood why. Sam wouldn’t put that pressure on Dean. Because, if Sam asked Dean what he should do, the weight suddenly would become Dean’s to bare and Sam wouldn’t have that. 

 

Dean wished his little brother would be more selfish sometimes. 

 

But, the time was just about up for that. 

 

Sam had his nightmare on October 1st and it the apocalypse was set to begin on October 3rd.

 

Time was truly running low and Dean didn’t feel any more prepared than when this had started. 

 

Now, it was the eve of the end. 

 

Last night on earth. Dean planned to make it fucking count, even if he was scared to hell and back.     

 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said softly, walking into ‘their’ room. 

 

Sam was just where Dean thought he’d be, on the right bed with his nose in a book. Despite Gabriel being able to answer any question they had, Sam still felt the need to research himself. So, Gabriel had flown out and gotten some lore books for Sam. Dean didn’t particularly  _ like  _ it, but the Archangel was actually starting to grow on him. 

 

“Dean,” Sam said, setting the book aside. “I thought you were training with Cas.” 

 

Dean winced. Castiel offered to help Dean with angel blade fighting. Dean went in pretty cocky because hey, he was a damn good knife fighter. However, the angel had completely annihilated him. Apparently, Dean’s decade and change of practice  _ did not _ trump Castiel’s centuries of practice. But, he did learn some new moves and Cas had helped him polish his technique so that was something.  

 

“I think my ass can only take so much kicking a day,” Dean let a smile twist his lips. “So… any plans, Sammy?” 

 

Sam quirked an eyebrow, his lips forming a slight pout. “Plans for what?” 

 

“Well,” Dean said, swallowing. “The world’s probably gonna be ending tomorrow so… last night on earth right?” 

 

_ Come on, Winchester. Stop bein’ a freakin’ girl.  _

 

Sam’s face soften. “It’s not going to be the end of the world. We’re going to figure it out like we always do.” 

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, the sweet and supportive Sam was not what he was trying to get right then. “But it’s a pretty good line, right?” 

 

Sam's eyes scrunched his eyebrows together and Dean knew he was royally f-ing this up. Sue him, he’d never done anything close to this before. And, even in his own mind, he couldn’t freaking say it. 

 

Luckily, Sam knew Dean better than Dean knew himself. 

 

Dean watched his brother stand, set the old book on the nightstand, and walk to his brother. Sam’s arm carefully brushed up Dean’s arm as he gently pressed his lips to Dean’s.

 

“I love you, Dean,” Sam whispered close to his ear. “But I don’t want to be  _ with  _ you because we have to - because we think we won’t get another chance. We will, I swear we will because I’m going to take care of it. Just let me take care of it for once, alright?” 

 

Instead of answering, Dean just kissed him again, it was a much easier language. Using Sam’s shirt to pull him closer, he deepened the kiss. Sam moved back, still keeping a firm hold on Dean, causing them to fall on the bed with Sam sitting and Dean practically in his lap. 

 

Sam pulled him closer again and Dean struggled in the hold. Because  _ he  _ should be controlling this, right? He was the big brother, the older one, he was in charge. Apparently, Sam didn’t think the same, as his large arms (did his brother always have such huge arms?) wrapped around Dean’s middle. It was then Dean realize just how… well,  _ tall _ Sam was. Like, seriously, when did that happen?      

 

Sam kissed him passionately, washing away his past fears and worries, zeroing his world in until it was just him and Sam. He could feel Sam’s hand brush through his hair and Sam’s body press against his own. 

 

Carefully, Sam pulled away and smiled. His face was relaxed, handsome, even if his eyes held onto traces of worry. Dean understood that Sam was trying to give him what he needed. Which sucked, because Dean wanted to be the one to make Sam feel better. 

 

Sam then laid back, pulling Dean down with him. Dean couldn’t say he was disappointed, not really. 

 

He had thought that Sam wanted… sex. He had walked into the room with the intention of having sex with Sam but… Honestly, he was glad Sam didn’t want to. It was just days ago that Dean could even think about  _ kissing  _ Sam without feeling sick. 

 

He, god he sounded like a girl, but he wasn’t quite… ready to go so far with Sam. 

 

Because of that, Dean’s smile came easily to match Sam’s. They didn’t speak much that night. They whispered words long lost to silence and kissed softly until Dean’s eyes began to feel heavy.   

 

Once more, Dean looked down at those eyes that held his soul, that shaggy brown hair, those lips. Only love could describe Dean’s expression. Sam was very close to sleep himself, but purposely caught Dean’s gaze for a moment.  

 

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “Promise me.” 

 

The words Sam wanted to say were too great for him to handle just then. Luckily, Dean understood. Dean understood Sam never wanted this to go away. Sam never wanted the warmth to leave. 

 

It was then that epiphany stuck Dean, the warmth he felt with Sam was  _ normal _ . It wasn’t blinding heat, it was what  _ everyone  _ felt all the time. Dean had been cold so long, he had forgotten what  _ warmth _ felt like. Dean could feel his eyes watering, not from sadness, or even time lost, but from pure happiness. 

 

Dean remembered, finally, what it felt like to be happy. A happiness he had only felt for a few moments when he was four years old. He remembered warmth.  

 

Dean was  _ happy _ .  

 

“I promise, Sammy,” Dean whispered like a scripture, stroking Sam’s hair.  

 

With those comforting words settling around them like a blanket, both boys fell into the arms of restful sleep… perhaps the first truly restful sleep of their lives. Dean just prayed it wasn’t the last. 

 

* * *

 

Far away from the restful boys, a graveyard held the feet of demons. The sky was absent of light as if the moon itself feared for what was about to happen. 

 

Three demons stood under a dying oak, the ground hard beneath their feet. 

 

The first demon was smiling, the second was on their knees, and the third was holding four glinting rings. 

 

The third demon, Azazel, stepped forward and began to chant, his eyes bleeding into pure yellow. The second demon’s eyes flickered to black and the first demon’s eyes shone white. 

 

“Watch, child,” the white-eyed demon, Alastair, said to the other. “Watch history unfold. When they speak of the New World, they will start with this night.” 

 

The black-eyed demon, Meg, swallowed, her eyes wide. She could feel the dark magic seeping from the ground, embracing her form. She grinned, never before had she felt such raw, terrible power.  

 

After Azazel finished his words, he threw down the four rings and watched as they clanged together like magnets. The earth rumbled and groaned, protesting the evil magic thrust upon it. 

 

A sinkhole began to take form as a blinding white light surrounded it. Any plant-life or animals nearby were vaporized by the light, yet the three demons were spared. For the Light had a name, and that name was Lucifer. 

 

Lucifer had risen      

 

* * *

 


	9. Star-Crossed Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait but both the last chapters are finished and I'll post chapter ten just a few minutes after this one goes up.   
> Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes and I hope you enjoy it!

**Star-Crossed Lovers**

 

* * *

 

_ But I see your true colors _

 

_ Shining through  _

 

_ I see your true colors _

 

_ And that’s why…  _

 

* * *

  
  


The Winchesters were reading when it happened. 

 

Dean was at the counter, translating an ancient Echocian text with the help of Castiel while Sam was reading over an old Latin Bible. Dean had been keeping an eye on Sam, mostly just suggesting ideas to Cas about the script. 

 

The first sign of danger was the glass shattering and Gabriel dropping to his knees. Dean, along with Sam and Castiel, came rushing to the Archangel’s side. Gabriel was grabbing his head, clearly in pain. 

 

Only seconds after that, Castiel fell to the floor as well. The two angels were gasping in pain, their grace making the room’s air thick. 

 

“Guys,” Sam was saying, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. 

 

Gabriel was the first to regain his breath. Still gasping deeply, Gabriel stood on shaky legs with some assistance from Sam. 

 

“Lucifer,” Gabriel said, voice weak. “He’s here, he’s walking the earth.” 

 

“What?” Sam said faintly. 

 

“I thought - the eclipse isn’t for hours,” Dean protested. 

 

“That wasn’t Lucifer rising,” Gabriel shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “By his power, I suspect he rose sometime last night. He’s in a vessel now - that was a warning.” 

 

“A warning?” Sam asked. 

 

“He’s been concealing his power since now,” Gabriel said. “Releasing it so violently would serve to warn the angels - warn them to stay away.” 

 

It was then that Castiel stood as well, much shakier than Gabriel, still having to hold onto the counter. 

 

“But the eclipse-,” 

 

“I got it wrong,” Gabriel said, looking frustrated with himself. “The battle will happen on the eclipse, but Lucifer planned to rise before that. Find a temporary vessel, get his bearings, I guess.” 

 

“Great,” Dean said sarcastically. “Just awesome.” 

 

“Okay,” Sam said, clearly trying to absorb the new information, process it, and find a new road in a couple seconds. “What now?” 

 

“What now is I handle it,” Gabriel said, looking at them both sharply. “If those two get to you and fight, they’ll take out half the planet. If they fight like this, there shouldn’t be  _ too _ much destruction.” 

 

“Too much?” Sam repeated with a scoff. “How much is that, exactly?”

 

Gabriel’s eyes shifted to the right. “Most of west America should be alright.” 

 

“Most of-,” Sam cut off incredulously. “You think that’s acceptable? Because I sure as hell don’t.” 

 

“Well, what would you have, Sam?” Gabriel asked, pained. “Fifty million lives or four billion?” 

 

Those numbers knocked the wind out of Dean. Those were really the numbers they were working with, those were the odds. This wasn’t a joke anymore. This wasn’t saving one guy from a werewolf or a girl from a black dog - this was the fate of millions,  _ billions _ of people. 

 

“People aren’t numbers,” Sam said strongly. “They’re  _ people _ and we have to save them. That’s what we do - that’s our job.” 

 

“You idiot,” came the deadly voice of Gabriel. Dean’s eyes widened at the tone. 

 

Looking to Gabriel, he could see his eyes aflare with whiskey-coloured fire. His power, his grace seemed to pour off him, filling the room and leaving lingering threats. It was then when Dean realized that no matter how much of a jokester Gabriel pretended to be - he was just as powerful as his brother, just as furious. Heaven’s greatest weapon - an Archangel. 

 

“This isn’t about your  _ job _ anymore,” Gabriel went on, stepping into Sam’s personal space. Dean stepped forward, but Castiel grabbed his arm. “This is the fate of the  _ world _ . Are those cheap words to you, Sam? Those people are already dead. It isn’t about preventing anymore - it’s about damage control. So, unless you’re planning on saying yes, your ass stays here  _ while I handle it _ .” 

 

Sam’s breathing had changed during the conversation. His head tilted down and his shoulders slouched. Anyone would’ve believed that he took Gabriel’s words to heart, that he was about to mutter a sorry and back down. But not Dean. Only Dean, after decades of study, was able to see the raging fire swirling in Sam’s eyes, the subtle twitch of his fingers, the tense line over his forehead. And when Sam looked up -  _ oh hell no. _

 

Dean knew that expression very well. It had usually only been reserved for their father. 

 

“And what exactly are you going to ‘handle’, Gabriel?” Sam asked, the strength in his voice making Gabriel raise his eyebrows. The guy probably wasn’t used to people as stubborn as his little brother. 

 

Dean always said Sam was the only person he knew that could argue with a brick wall - and win. 

 

“Whatever needs to be handled,” Gabriel said stiffly. 

 

“Ah, so translation - ‘I have no clue’,” Sam shot back. “You’ll get yourself killed is what you’ll do. You said it yourself - you’re no match for Lucifer or Michael.” 

 

“They’re still  _ my _ brothers,” Gabriel said. “I should be the one out there. Look, both their vessels are right here, if I can stall-,”

 

“Stall?” Sam scoffed. “For how long? They’ll find us eventually. We’ll need you here.” 

 

“Perhaps,” Castiel’s calm voice interjected. “We could gather ourselves and discuss a plan together?” 

 

That was a great thought that Cas had, but it hadn’t exactly happened that way. What happened was mostly shouting and arguing with very little actual conversation. It was decided by Gabriel and no one else that he would leave to ‘scout out the playing field’. As in, he was going to see if there were any angels he could turn to their cause. Any angels whose loyalty wavered. Castiel had then stood himself by the window like a guard dog and stayed there all day.     

Dean wasn’t quite sure what time it was, as the windows in this place always looked the same. But he could see Sam getting tired. So, after promising to wake him if anything changed, Dean dragged his little brother to sleep. Dean didn’t blame the kid for being exhausted… it had been a rough few weeks for both of them. 

* * *

 

 

Sam was surprised at how quickly he fell asleep. He never actually planned on falling asleep, just laying there to appease Dean. Despite this, sleep grabbed his mind almost as soon as he laid down. 

 

His dream was hazy at first, until he felt a painfully familiar hand on his cheek. Letting his eyes flutter open, Sam was greeted with the sight of Jess. At first, Sam was confused why he was dreaming of Jess sleeping next to him. He had many dreams of Jess since she died, but most had been nightmares. 

 

“Hello, Sam,” Jess smiled… but, that wasn’t Jess’s smile. Those were not Jess’s eyes - this - this  _ wasn’t  _ Jess. Wasn’t his Jess.  

Jerking away from the hand and stumbling to stand, Sam put a good distance between himself and Fake Jess. 

 

“Sam?” Jess’s face looked confused. “I thought you missed me.” 

 

“You,” Sam said, eyes alight. “Aren’t Jess.” 

 

“Hm,” Fake Jess said, her demeanor slackening, like she was dropping the act. Good.   

 

Then the image of Jess shimmered and dissolved, leaving a man who looked to be in his mid twenties with blonde hair and icy red eyes. 

 

“I’m impressed, Sam, really,” the man clapped. “Thought you’d still be all… broken up, or whatever. Easy to mold.” 

 

Sam was breathing heavy because he  _ knew _ he just  _ knew _ who this man was. Just as he knew to breathe, he knew this was Lucifer. Not a dream of Lucifer, this  _ was _ Lucifer. 

 

“Lucifer,” Sam said, not a question. He tried to make his voice sound strong, but the word had been weaker than he intended. 

 

“Wow,” Lucifer said, a smile spreading across his face. “You know me just by this old suit? We really are meant to be.” 

 

“No,” Sam said without hesitation. “That’s my answer, always. No.” 

 

Lucifer sighed. “So Gabriel got to you, huh? Look, Sammy, I’m not the bad guy here.”

“Really?” Sam said sarcastically. “Lemme guess, Satan, you’re just misunderstood?” 

 

“Honestly?” Lucifer said. “Yeah, basically. I mean, it’s a longer story... but that’s the gist of it.” 

“Right,” Sam said. “Answer’s still no. Even…,”

 

“Even…?” Lucifer prompted. “I bet Gabriel told you I hurt you or Dean to get you to say yes, right?”

 

Sam just stared at him. 

 

“Sam,” Lucifer made his voice softer. “I would  _ never _ hurt you or Dean. Believe it or not, I love you. You’re my vessel, my one true vessel. I love Michael, too, by the way. He’s the one that’s gunning for a fight, not me.” 

 

“Even if that was true,” Sam said. “Your lackey killed my parents, so you’d still be on my shit list.” 

 

“Hey,” Lucifer said, pointing a finger at him. “I didn’t tell him to do that. All I told him to do was protect you -  _ and _ your brother. He protected you.” 

 

“Protected me by killing my mom and dad?” Sam scoffed, but his eyes held a curious gleam. 

 

“Yes,” Lucifer said, straight-faced and honestly. “Sam, the night Azazel killed your mother was the night she raised a knife to your crib.” 

 

Sam froze, his muscles tensed. Why did that affect him... it was a lie. Of course it was a lie because demons-  _ The Devil _ lies, obviously he does. He did, just then. 

 

“Liar,” Sam accused, arms crossed.  

 

“Why does everyone think that about me?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I don’t lie, why would I? Azazel killed your mom because she was about to kill you, Azazel killed your dad because he was coming up with plans to kill you. Azazel  _ saved _ you, Sam. Both times.” 

 

Sam took in a shuddering breath. “My dad would never do that.” 

 

“Not even if he figured it out?” Lucifer prompted. “He would let the vessel of Lucifer live and walk this earth? Do you really believe he would do that, Sam?” 

 

Sam looked away. Because… he didn’t know. He needed to think. His dad, he wouldn’t have hurt Sam, would he? Even if Sam was… even if Sam was the vessel of Lucifer, the… image of Lucifer. God, Sam really needed to think. 

 

And his  _ mom _ . No. Sam had grown up on stories of how wonderful she was. His dad practically hailed her as a goddess. Not one time had he ever spoken lowly of her. Dean was the same, although he couldn’t remember much of her. She was an idol to him, someone he knew was always watching from… she  _ couldn’t have _ .  

 

“Exactly,” Lucifer said, taking Sam’s silence for acceptance. “I just want to protect you, Sam. Which is why, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”      

 

“No.” 

 

“Oh, Sam,” Lucifer said, taking a step forward. “I may need your consent to possess you, but I don’t need it for anything else.” 

 

Sam felt panic rush through him before he remembered that this was just a dream. Lucifer couldn’t actually hurt him. 

 

Though, like most times in his life, Sam was completely and utterly wrong. He realized this when Lucifer reached out and his vision went white. 

 

* * *

 

Castiel jerked so abruptly that Dean was surprised he didn’t fall over. The angel’s eerily blue eyes were blown wide as he disappeared from the room. 

 

Dean looked around for only a second before he heard his name being yelled from their room. Rushing to the room, he found Castiel standing in there alone. 

 

“Where’s Sam?” Dean said, not even trying to keep the panic from his voice. 

 

“Not here,” Castiel said painfully. “I… I don’t know how, nothing should be able to penetrate these wards. Nothing.” 

 

Dean was truly panicking now. 

 

He watched as Castiel’s eyes took on a blank look and moments later Gabriel appeared, looking stricken. 

 

Dean didn’t waste any time before he grabbed Gabriel by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him against the nearest wall. It was a testament to how upset Gabriel was that he let himself be handled in such a way. 

 

“What the fuck, man?” Dean demanded, angel still locked in his grip. “Where the fuck is my brother?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said honestly. “I underestimated Lucifer’s power. I didn’t think he’d be so strong without Sam.” 

 

Dean wanted to yell and scream at the angel because anger was just so easy. It was the easiest emotion for him to feel. Really, growing up, anger and happiness were the two emotions that he wasn’t berated for so… those just became the most common. But, right then, Dean wasn’t angry - he was scared, so scared. 

 

Lucifer, the Devil himself, had his baby brother and Dean… Dean never felt more like a failure. He was suppose to protect Sammy, that was his job, his one and only purpose in life. Letting Sam get taken by fucking Lucifer was a pretty huge failure in Dean’s eyes. 

 

But right now, Dean took a breath, right now Sam doesn’t need Dean’s problems, he needs to be saved. And damn if that wasn’t what Dean was going to do. 

 

Dean released Gabriel and stepped back. 

 

“If I had to guess,” Gabriel said. “The curse that Lucifer bares is what made it possible for him to infiltrate. The wards are for Archangels and maybe… maybe that curse has turned Lucifer to far. If that’s true, this place should still hold against Michael and Raphael.” 

 

“No way,” Dean said. “No way am I staying locked up behind these damn walls while Sam’s out there. No fucking way.” 

 

Gabriel looked like he wanted to protest, he really did. “If you go to that battle, whether you say yes or not, you’ll die.” 

 

“I have to find Sam,” Dean said. Sam was all that mattered now, all that ever mattered. 

 

“All you’ll find in that battle is death,” Gabriel shook his head. “If you go… Knowing Lucifer, I would bet Sam has already said yes or he will soon. If you go, all you’ll see is Sam dying.” 

 

“Then he won’t die alone,” Dean said, locking his jaw. He didn’t plan on living on this earth without Sam. He had always known that if Sam went first, if he couldn’t save him, Dean would be following within hours. Life without Sam wasn’t life worth living. 

 

Gabriel looked at him, something deep in his eyes shifting, as if he was only now realizing just how strong the bond between soulmates was. How far above himself or anyone else he put Sam. 

 

“I’ll be there as well,” Castiel spoke, surprising them both. “I had always been under the impression that love was following orders, obeying heaven. You and your brother have taught me, perhaps unintentionally, the love free will allows. Even if I won’t live much longer, I’ve spent my last few days free, which is more valuable than a million years chained to a false purpose.” 

 

Dean looked at the angel with respect and nodded solemnly. 

 

Gabriel sighed. “Well, I’m not getting left behind. It’s your life, kid, if you wanna do this, then, let’s do it.” 

 

Dean nodded, satisfied he had gotten his point across clearly. Good. 

 

“You did lead angels, right Cassie?” Gabriel said, eyebrow raised. 

 

“Yes,” Castiel said. 

 

“You think you could do it again?” 

 

* * *

Sam blinked sluggishly… where was he? He went to raise a hand to his eyes, but jerked when he found himself tied down. Eyes snapping open, Sam saw that he was tied to a tree, sitting, with his hands behind him, locking the tree’s trunk in his arms. Sam pulled at the restraints, feeling the uncomfortable tug in his shoulders before realizing it wasn’t going to budge. 

 

“Ah, look who’s awake.”

 

Sam looked to his left to see Lucifer sitting on a headstone… it looked like they were in a graveyard. What was worse was the sky was gray. Not because of the time, but because the sun was slowly beginning to be eclipsed by the moon. It truly was apocalypse now. 

 

“Where are we?” Sam demanded, his voice stronger than he was feeling. 

 

Lucifer scratched his head. “Well, it’s a graveyard now… but. Back in the day this was a lake... or the edge of it. This was the first spot of earth us Archangels were shown. Michael and I used to come here all the time, you know. Michael’s always been one for sentiment.” 

 

“Thought you didn’t want to fight?” Sam said, mostly just stalling for time now, like Dean taught him. 

 

_ If you’re ever taken by anything or… anyone, you stall, Sammy. If you can’t fight, stall, ‘cause I’ll be there soon, okay?  _

 

“I  _ don’t _ ,” Lucifer shrugged. “But big bro does. I never asked for this, Sam. I never asked for this curse - never asked to be what it turned me into - that’s on dad, not me. I just want what everyone else does - my little piece of happiness.” 

 

Sam was silent. 

 

“I bet I’m not what you expected,” Lucifer smiled. “No horns or hooves.” 

 

“Nah,” Sam shook his head, eyes narrowed. “Actually, you’re  _ exactly _ what I expected. You’re charming, your arguments make sense, you don’t seem intimidating at all. But, I’m your vessel and I can see you, the real you. You don’t need horns - you’re just another monster, no different than everything else I hunt.” 

 

“I love that fire, Sam,” Lucifer said, words nice but eyes angry. “Save it, you’ll need it when we fight Michael.” 

 

“I won’t be fighting anyone,” Sam glared as fiercely as he could. 

 

“But you will,” Lucifer said, almost resigned. 

 

Sam looked at the man. He could feel the hate and anger pouring off of him. Yet, he could also see that glimmer, that glimmer of what he used to be. He could easily see how this could have been a good person, a friend even. But that glimmer was shaded darkness so deep that Sam didn’t think any light could penetrate it. 

 

“Look,” Sam said, attempting to appeal to that glimmer. He knew his words wouldn’t turn Lucifer around but he still needed to stall. “You were like me once, right?  You know what it’s like to have a soulmate.” 

“Shut up, Sam.” 

 

Sam heard it, faintly, in the distance. It was a sound he usually associated with comfort, now it filled him with dread. The purring of the Impala’s engine. 

No, no, no, what the actual hell was Dean  _ thinking _ ? This is exactly what they wanted - he was playing right into their hands. Of course, when it came to Sam, Dean never did seem to think clearly. 

 

The sleek black car flattened the grass as it rumbled to a stop. Dean stepped out of the driver’s seat alone, cocky grin and relaxed stance. 

 

“Hey, hope you guys didn’t start without me,” Dean said, chin up. 

 

To say Sam was confused wouldn’t even scratch the surface. What the hell was… what the hell was going on? Dean was alone, without the two angels - were they alright? He didn’t look very bothered that he was unarmed and vulnerable in the face of Lucifer. Great… his brother picked a great fucking time to go off the deep end.  

 

“You boys are just full of surprises,” Lucifer said, standing up. “I expected Michael to  drag you here kicking and screaming.” 

 

“Not really my style,” Dean said. “Sam’s here so I am too. You okay, Sammy?” 

 

“Am I…?” Sam said incredulously. “Dean, what the hell!” 

 

“You really thought I’d leave you with  _ that _ ,” Dean waved his hand at Lucifer. “But don’t worry about him, he’ll be dead soon.” 

 

“That so?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Oh yeah,” Dean said. “‘Cause I’m saying yes.” 

 

Sam jerked at that. Dean was saying yes to Michael? No, no that didn’t sound like Dean at all. Dean wouldn’t allow himself to be possessed by someone who wanted Sam dead. So… unless…

 

_ “I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean muttered again, dabbing the wet cloth to Sam’s bloody brow.  _

 

_ “I already told you,” Sam winced as the cloth touched the cut. “It’s not your fault. You saved me, Dean.”  _

 

_ “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”  _

 

_ “Dean, I would have been shot if you didn’t,” Sam gently grabbed his big brother’s wrist, lowering the cloth with it. “I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me on purpose.”  _

 

Sam wasn’t sure what that particular memory popped into his head. There were a lot like it. In their line of work, sometimes it hurt to help. He remembered Dean’s pained face every time he had to give Sam stitches or dress one of his wounds. He knew what he had said all those years ago was still true. Dean would never willingly hurt Sam. He had to trust his brother. He might not know what the hell was going on but Dean obviously did. 

 

He trusted Dean.      

 

“Great,” Lucifer shrugged. “Not that newsworthy, really.” 

 

“But it is,” Dean said. “What do you think will happen when I say yes to Michael but Sam doesn’t say yes to you? Who do you think will win that fight?” 

 

Lucifer wavered but quickly regained his stride. “I could just kill you now.” 

 

“I wouldn’t,” said a new voice. 

 

Everyone’s head turned to see a man in his mid-thirties with sandy brown hair and silver eyes. He was wearing a formal suit with a black tattoo snaking up his neck. This, Sam summarized, must be Michael. 

 

Lucifer’s face slackened, lips parted as his eyes brushed over the other angel. “Hello, brother.” 

 

“Hello, Lucifer,” the man walked forwards, a hungry look clouding his eyes. “I’ve been waiting so long for this day.” 

 

“I’ve missed you,” Lucifer said. The words should have been endearing but from his mouth… they sounded awful. They sounded like a serial killer talking to his victim. His red eyes glowed and his breathing quickened. He was excited, Sam realized, excited to kill his brother. His soulmate.     

 

“As I have you,” Michael’s tone matched his brother’s. “Was that a yes I heard, Dean?”

 

“Might’ve been,” Dean said evasively. “Depends on what your plan for  _ my _ brother is.”  

 

“He needs,” Michael’s hands twitched. “He’ll say yes to Lucifer - he has to. It’s the only way - a fair fight. A fight… fight to the end.” 

 

Sam took a moment to look at Michael, really look. Michael had a frantic look in his silver eyes. He looked like a junkie in need of a fix. Sam knew that as desperate as Dean may be to save him, Michael was just as desperate to kill Lucifer. That curse really had taken their bond and flipped it. Completely. Inreveservably. 

 

“Dean?” Michael prompted, voice tight and eyes never leaving Lucifer. “Now.” 

 

“Already said yes,” Dean smiled and blinked. But… when Dean blinked, his eyes opened golden, not green. And holy fuck if that wasn’t weird.  

 

His stance changed, his face changed, and Sam’s lips parted as he realized this wasn’t Dean any longer. This was the Archangel Gabriel. 

 

“Sorry, bro,” Dean - Gabriel winked. “Now, looks like we’re having a fight, eh?” 

 

“ _ No, _ ” Michael roared, wings flashing behind him. “You - you’re  _ ruining _ it - you’re ruining everything. Remove yourself immediately, Gabriel.” 

 

“No can do,” Gabriel said. 

 

“Please,” Michael pleaded. 

 

Sam saw then, that behind the fire of rage, it was just broken. It was empty and it was pain. Maybe Michael just wanted the pain to stop. Sam himself had never felt hate for Dean. He had been annoyed at times, sure, even upset with the older boy but… he never felt hate. He wondered how painful it must be for Michael to hate his soulmate. 

 

In that moment, Sam felt honest sympathy for Michael - and for Lucifer. It was the same sympathy and guilt that washed over him every time they had to kill a monster who didn’t ask to be turned. It was just like Madison, the werewolf girl he had quickly befriended. She was more pure than most humans, yet she had to die. Sam himself shot her in the chest. In the chest because she asked for an open casket funeral, for her family. That had almost broken Sam. It was the same for these two, albeit on a larger scale. According to Gabriel, neither of them asked for this, and yet here they were. Sam knew that if this had happened to him, just like Madison, he would’ve begged for death. 

 

“Sam,” Lucifer said, looking down expectantly. “I need you to say yes right now. If you do, I might kill Dean now but I swear I’ll bring him back for you. You know I would, I have no reason to lie.” 

 

Lucifer was right - Sam did believe that. He truly believed that Lucifer would let him and Dean live… but in what world? A world destroyed, a dystopia where they would never truly be happy? That wasn’t the life either of them would want to live.       

 

Sam was silent, his answer clear. 

 

Sam was about to speak, but then the day turned completely into night. The eclipse was in full completion. 

 

Lucifer hissed as Michael unsheathed the blade on his waist. In one blink, the angels were there and then they weren’t.  

 

Explosions lit up the dark day’s sky like fireworks. Sam realized they were flying and fighting, faster than his human eyes could perceive. But… it looked there was some kind of forcefield? Everytime the angels clashed near the edge of the graveyard, they stayed there, like they couldn’t leave. 

 

Once, they got very close to Sam and he felt searing heat next to him. Like an explosion just went off inches away. Opening his eyes, Sam saw Dean standing over him, not Gabriel, Dean. 

 

“Dean,” Sam gasped. 

 

“Hey, little brother,” Dean said, calmer than he probably was. His brother knelt down and started working on the rope that held Sam’s arms, untying the complex knot with practiced ease. Sam rolled his shoulders, accepting the hand Dean offered. 

 

“Gabriel’s possessing you?” 

 

“Yeah, long story,” Dean said gruffly. “Look, you ain’t gonna like this but I need you to stay here, alright? They need me up there.” 

 

“Dean - no-” 

 

“Don’t do anything stupid, Sammy,” that was all Dean said before his eyes blinked to golden and he disappeared. 

 

“Dammit,” Sam cursed. Looking up, he realized there were two sets of clashing explosions in the sky and his stomach twisted as he realized one of those sets included his brother. 

 

Sam looked around uselessly, feeling out of his league. He still didn’t understand what was going on. That was when Sam heard yelling from his right, a voice he recognized as Castiel. 

 

Sam ran, dodging headstones and trying to keep his footing as explosions shook the ground. 

Finally reaching the edge of the graveyard, Sam found Castiel and two other angels he didn’t recognize.

 

“Cas,” Sam panted. “What the hell is going on?” 

 

“The apocalypse,” Castiel glanced up at him, carving warding symbols in the dirt. “I’ve rallied the angels I could and we’re working to maintain a protective field. Raphael would not go so directly against Michael and Gabriel’s dealing with him. We are planning to allow Michael and Lucifer to fight and then kill the winner with overwhelming force.”

Well… at least that was information. It was scattered information with missing patches but… it was a lot more than he knew before. “And Dean?” 

 

“Dean,” Castiel said, still carving the symbols. “May not be Gabriel’s true vessel, but he is still an extremely strong human and his body amplifies Gabriel’s power greatly. Raphael’s inhabiting a vessel that can barely hold him - this gives Gabriel the advantage.” 

 

“And Dean agreed to that?”

 

“When it was impressed upon him how important this choice was to your survival, yes he agreed.” 

 

“Okay,” Sam said, trying and failing to process. “Is there anything I can do?” 

 

* * *

Dean was aware of everything that was happening. It was a condition he made Gabriel agree to before he said yes. He still couldn’t believe he was doing this but… if it helped Sam, he would. He would do anything. 

 

Dean knew that those were usually words thrown around carelessly. He knew that many people would say to each other ‘I would do anything for you’. Not many of them meant that - but Dean did. He would walk straight into hell if it meant Sammy would be okay. He didn’t know the core reason for it, maybe it was years of their dad drilling it into his head, maybe it was that Sam was his brother, or his soulmate or maybe it was just because he loved Sam that much. 

 

But to Dean, that reason didn’t matter all that much. What mattered is that it was true and it would never change. 

 

It felt incredibly weird to be possessed. He had never been fully possessed like this before. He couldn’t feel anything, but he imagined Gabriel did that on purpose. They were in a fight, after all. 

 

Dean wasn’t sure what Gabriel was seeing, but Dean preserved the battle as dancing lights. Pure lights bouncing off invisible walls and falling into each other. He couldn’t tell which light was which - he could only hope they were winning. 

 

He could feel Sam, though. The damn kid never did as he was told and had, in fact, moved from where Dean left him. Luckily, he was near Castiel’s presence. It was weird feeling that. It was almost like, just as Gabriel was possessing his body, Dean was possessing Gabriel’s senses. 

 

He felt the glow of Sam’s soul, the gentle brightness that encompassed his brothers form and moved in perfect motion with him. His soul, just like every other part of him, was beautiful. It was young and curious yet cautious and wise. It was just - Sam, in the purest form of himself. 

 

Dean saw the sky as Raphael knocked Gabriel on his back. Gabriel and Raphael fought each other in hand-to-hand combat for what seemed like hours while the sky still shone black. Eventually, Gabriel had turned the tables and was standing over his bloodied brother with a blade to his throat, the explosions of Michael and Lucifer’s fight still lighting up the sky. 

 

“Please, Raphael,” Dean heard his voice say. “Don’t make me do this, brother. I’m begging you.” 

 

Raphael said nothing, staring up at them with cold eyes, eyes that were resigned and lifeless. 

 

“You…,” Raphael spoke hoarsely. “Chose  _ them _ over… us.” 

 

“Yes,” Dean heard his voice break. “I did.” 

 

“Then,” Raphael said. “There is nothing left to fight for.” 

 

Dean felt Gabriel prepare to say something, anything - an argument or perhaps a plea. However, what the angel was preparing was wiped away as a massive explosion shook the ground with the force an earthquake would envy. 

 

Gabriel turned around to see Michael straddling Lucifer with a blade against his heart. They were quite far away, but with Gabriel’s hearing, Dean could make out every word. 

 

“Say it,” Michael panted, his eyes crazed. “Say  _ I won _ . Say it!” 

 

Lucifer’s breath was coming out as short, painful puffs. “You won. Congr- congrats.”   

 

“I hate you,” Michael said. The words sent a shiver down Dean’s spine because that… that was the same tone he used with Sam with he said ‘I love you’. 

 

“I know,” Lucifer grabbed onto Michael’s wrist. 

 

There were only seconds - seconds that seemed like hours - before Michael raised his hand, along with Lucifer’s, and brought the archangel blade down and into the chest of his brother, impaling him through his heart. 

 

There was red light, hellfire, and jerking from Lucifer before his vessel laid still, dead, upon the evening ground. 

 

The blade looked to be made of lead as Michael let it slip from his limp hand. With Gabriel’s eyes, Dean could see there bond, their true bond. With the death of Lucifer, the bond’s black strings recited and melted into nothingness. Like scales, the black ash broke away at Lucifer’s end and reached Michael’s chest within a half second. Bright golden, yet everlasting sadness, now encompassed the string-like bond.   

 

Dean realized then, that the curse was gone. It had died with Lucifer and… with no curse, there was no hate - only love. Which, it seemed, was far more painful. 

 

Dean watched as horror washed over Michael as he realized what he had done - when he realized he had just killed his soulmate and Lucifer… Lucifer had let him. Maybe… maybe Lucifer just wanted to be free too. 

 

Dean heard the screams of anguish and broken faith from Michael, but Gabriel turned his head when Michael turned the fallen blade on himself. He didn’t watch as the mighty archangel followed his brother in death. 

 

Michael and Lucifer were dead.  

 

Dean wasn’t given any warning before Gabriel exited his body. He was left coughing and gasping on the ground as he tried to gather his bearings. When he looked up, both Gabriel and Raphael were gone. He also realized that the wounds Gabriel had gathered in the battle had disappeared. Dean blinked a few times before he got himself up and started jogging in the direction he had felt Sam was in. 

 

When he finally got there, Sam was standing with wide eyes and… dirty hands? Dean didn’t care and he wasted no time pulling his little brother into a crushing hug. He tugged on Sam’s hair, which must have been painful for the other, but his little brother didn’t protest in the slightest.  

 

He just stood there for minutes, feeling Sam’s chest rise and fall against his own. Feeling Sam’s hair against his face and his arms wrapping around his body. It would seem Sam needed this just as much as Dean himself, as his grip was bruising. Finally, they pulled away.

 

Castiel then spoke from there right and Dean tore his eyes away from his brother to focus on the angel. 

 

“Michael and Lucifer are… gone,” Castiel hesitated. “I don’t know where Gabriel and Raphael are.” 

 

“Here.” 

 

Dean’s eyes flickered to the right, seeing Gabriel in his old vessel. 

 

“I can feel Raphael,” Gabriel said grimly. “He’s in Heaven and I… I don’t think he’ll be much of a problem anymore.” 

 

“Very well,” Castiel said. “What are your orders, brother?”

 

Gabriel seemed dumb-struck as his eyes scanned over Castiel and the other gathered angels. Dean supposed it would be a shock… now that Michael was dead, Gabriel was probably pretty high in the chain of command. 

 

“I…,” Gabriel straightened. “Heaven is in shambles, we need to restore order, I guess. Castiel, you can take the Winchesters home for now.” 

 

“What are we doing now?” Sam asked. 

 

“Just,” Gabriel said, with a weight Dean had never seen him bare before. “Go with Castiel and we’ll figure it out later. After everything has… settled, at least somewhat.” 

 

Dean then nodded his agreement, because he had never felt so tired in his whole life. He saw Sam had done the same. 

 

  Castiel’s glowing hands touched his and Sam’s foreheads and blinded their eyes with white yet again. 

 

* * *

 

When Dean reopened his eyes, there were back in Bobby’s living room. Just him and Sam, Castiel was nowhere to be seen. 

 

“Dean?” Sam asked, looking at him with those beautiful hazel eyes. “What the hell just happened?” 

 

* * *

 

 


	10. True Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is it :) I'll probably write a sequel to this at some point... I already have a bit of an idea for it. A huge thank you to everyone. Your reviews and kudos have been so inspiring. I hope you like this last chapter. Until next time!

**Chapter Ten: True Colours**

 

* * *

 

_ I _

 

_ Love _

 

_ You _

 

* * *

 

Days past before either brother saw Castiel or Gabriel. In those few days, the boys tried desperately to regain some sense of normal. It wasn’t easy. There was a lot of explaining done on their part and a lot of yelling on Bobby’s. More yelling out of concern and Sam could understand that. Still, Dean didn’t like  _ anyone _ yelling at Sam… but, they seemed to settle Bobby’s questions after a few hours and a six pack of beers. 

 

They hadn’t yet broached the subject of ‘them’. Sam wasn’t willing to push his brother anymore than he already had, especially after all the shit they just went through. Dean didn’t say anything, but Sam knew that being possessed by Gabriel took a great toll on him. Dean would wake up in the middle of the night, throw Sam’s arms off his chest and just sit there. Dean would sit on the edge of the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists… almost like he was reassuring himself that he was, indeed, in total control of his body. 

 

Sam wanted nothing more than to comfort his brother, but he knew Dean would only relax when they figured out what the hell was going on. So, in substitute of comfort, Sam gave Dean something to focus on. Sam knew that Dean took no job as seriously as caring for his little brother. Sam would purposely push food away before he was done so Dean could bitch at him for it. He would pretend not to be tired just so Dean would crawl into bed with him. All in all, Sam was pretty proud of his ability to successfully keep Dean’s mind occupied.

 

However, on the fourth day, both Gabriel and Castiel appeared at the breakfast table, causing Sam to  _ almost _ spill orange juice everywhere. 

 

“The hell-,’ Bobby startled. “Don’t you angels know what knocking is?”

 

“Of course we do,” Castiel answered honestly and obliviously like always. 

 

Sam saw Dean roll his eyes from across the table. 

 

“Hey,” Sam offered a small smile, standing up. “Is - how is everything?” 

 

“There is still much chaos in Heaven,” Castiel answered. “Raphael has agreed to share guardianship of Heaven’s throne with Gabriel. That is what we have been negotiating in our absence from earth. There are… still angels loyal to Michael and unwilling to accept his d-death as truth… but they are few and far between.” 

 

“That’s - that’s good, right?” Dean asked, looking from Castiel to Gabriel, raising his beer slightly. “Gettin’ everything in order.” 

 

“Yeah,” Gabriel sighed, taking an empty seat and snapping up some large, colourful slurpee. “I was honestly expecting the biggest bitch-fit imaginable from Raphael. I’m talking Heavenly civil war levels here. But… he’s been oddly agreeable - not that I’m complaining.” 

 

“Yer Gabriel?” Bobby raised an eyebrow. “You’re a little short for a damn archangel, boy.” 

 

Sam honestly couldn’t help it - he broke into a smile and laughed. Partly at Bobby’s audacity to call the being that could level the entire state ‘short’ and partly at Gabriel’s offended face. Even as Dean was looking at him like he had lost his goddamn mind, Sam didn’t stop laughing. 

 

* * *

 

They had come to find a brand new, yet very comfortable normal. It had been weeks since the apocalypse had been averted and the boys kept to what they did best - hunting. They had both began to get restless after around a week at Bobby’s - years of being on the move tended to do that. 

 

However, now, they got regular visits from Castiel and Gabriel. Castiel had even offered to fly them to their hunts but Dean protested - ‘it’ll make Baby feel useless, Sammy’. But Sam didn’t protest either. As much as Sam may complain about Dean’s driving and the long roads, he loved the car just as much as Dean. 

 

However, one thing that didn’t change from their Heavenly adventure was their sleeping arrangements. Every hotel they when to, Dean always got them one queen or king sized bed depending on what they had. Even when they found a motel that only had a room with two singles, Sam entered the room to find Dean had pushed the two beds together. 

 

Sam also noticed that Dean had began to touch him more. Just little things. If they were seated next to each other, he would feel Dean’s fingers brush over his wrist or their shoulders would touch. These instances made Sam feel so warm but… he still craved more. 

 

So, that night, they had just finished up a successful hunt and Sam decided they needed a little celebration of their very own. 

 

“Hey,” Dean called from the motel’s little kitchenette. “I was thinking of grabbing some food. Any requests?” 

 

“Actually,” Sam stood up and walked over to his brother. He felt oddly nervous - a feeling he truly tried to shake. This was just Dean. His brother, soulmate, everything… besides, the worst Dean could do was say no and - well… that would crush Sam but… Sam took a deep breath. “I thought we could maybe go to a nicer place tonight? Like a - a real restaurant or something, you know?”  

 

Dean paused. His pretty green eyes catching the light as he raised an eyebrow at Sam. 

 

“Sammy,” a little smile tugged at his lips. “Are you askin’ me out?” 

 

The joking quality that sentence usually had was gone. There was amusement present but more of a nervous amusement than anything else. 

 

Sam mirrored his brother. “Maybe.” 

 

“Well then I…,” and there it was. There was that old hesitation that Sam hoped would one day leave his brother in peace. Sam wondered whose voice Dean was hearing right then. 

 

“I…,” Dean tried again. “I accept. You had anyplace in mind?” 

 

It took Sam a second to catch up with the fact that Dean actually said  _ yes _ . Dean agreed to a date with him. Wow. Sam fully expected to be shot down, but… Sam didn’t spend time dwelling on what could have happened. Instead, he just broke into a wide grin. 

 

“Yeah, actually, there’s this Italian place just a few blocks from here,” Sam said quickly. “It, uh, looked really nice when we drove past it.” 

 

Sam stood up then and walked over to where Dean was standing. An odd thought past Sam’s mind. When they were so close like this, Sam physically had to tilt his head down to see into Dean’s eyes. Dean completely disappeared by his large frame.  

 

Of course Sam knew that he was a tall guy. On more than one occasion he had used his height to intimidate uncooperative witnesses or enemies. However, in his mind, he always thought of Dean as bigger. Dean was louder, much better at socializing and just had an overall large personality. 

 

But looking now, Sam was  _ stronger _ . Not only that but Sam.... wanted to be stronger. He wanted to be able to take control, to protect Dean just like Dean had protected him. 

 

Without any words, Sam wrapped his arms around his brother. Dean startled for only a second before he returned the hug. Instead of letting Dean pull him down like he normally did, Sam pulled Dean to his chest, holding him securely. Honestly, this was all Sam ever wanted. 

 

Sam hated to think it, he truly did but… he was glad the apocalypse had almost happened. If not, he wouldn’t be able to hold Dean like he was doing now. He wouldn’t be able to  _ feel _ like this. To feel warm and to feel overwhelming, overflowing love for the man he held in his arms. 

 

He wondered if their father was watching over them, if he was happy for his sons. His sons who finally found a love that had seemed endlessly out of reach. He hoped he was watching... Hoped he was happy. A stray thought of his mother entered his mind, of what Lucifer had said… but Sam pushed it away. There were times to dwell on ‘what if’s’, and now was certainly not one of those times.  

 

They would start over, Sam decided. Go somewhere that no one knew their names. They would still hunt, but they wouldn’t be living for hunting. The would be living for each other. They had a lot of missed time to make up for, Sam knew, but they were the Winchesters and if anyone could do it, they could. 

 

Sam smiled at the idea, their bond basking in the happiness surrounding them. And if they hugged longer than brothers should, well, that was their business. 

 

Sam just held on tighter. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Dude,” Dean said, walking over to his brother. A robe his only clothes after that  _ fantastic _ shower. ‘This place freakin’  _ rocks _ .” 

 

“Yeah…,” Sam agreed with a smile, his face never leaving the book he was reading. 

 

Dean chuckled at his geek of a brother. It had been almost a whole year since the apocalypse had been stopped. They had tried to find an actual house like  _ normal _ people and that had been a disaster. Neither of them had really known how the hell to actually buy a house and… it was much more difficult in practice than in thought. 

 

That’s when Gabriel had sauntered down from Heaven with Castiel in tow. Gabriel had taken them here, to a bunker in Kansas. Apparently their grandfather had been some man of letters or something - which was freaking cool on it’s own. But, the batcave-like bunker had been the icing on the cake. Gabriel had tossed Sam a key saying it was a favor for helping to avert the apocalypse. Well, he had actually said he was a ‘consolation prize for not being a complete dumbass’. 

 

  The archives of this place had been keeping his brother busy for the months they had been there. Gabriel had used his mojo to fix the place up to more resemble an actual house. The library had been turned into more of a sitting room, similar to Bobby’s living room, which was comforting. However, what made it different was the big flat screen Gabriel had outfitted it with.  The break room area was turned into a nice-ass kitchen - like the kind you saw in those home makeover shows… not that Dean  _ watched _ those shows… 

 

Gabriel had put a few more homely touches on it, really pulling it all together. At this point, Dean was pretty sure he and Sam had inherited two angels as well. Without fault, at least once a week Gabriel and Castiel would fly in to have dinner and watch a movie with the brothers. 

 

Dean didn’t mind it at all though. He was actually finding a real friend in Castiel. After a lot of coaxing, Castiel was an interesting guy. It was weird - Dean never really had any friends outside of Sam before. But Dean found he actually really liked it. Castiel would listen intently to him babble on about cars or movies for hours, never once seeming bored. Castiel was also helping him sharpen his fighting skills, which was always helpful. 

 

And Sam had, oddly, seemed to have ‘tamed the Archangel Gabriel’ as Castiel put it. Gabriel would listen to Sam’s endless questions for hours and answer - almost - all of them truthfully. Sam was still a little sour from Gabriel telling him T-Rexes had been covered with feathers. 

 

In addition, the two angels were invaluable on hunts. Dean still preferred his baby to angel-air any day but... they always had an out in tight spots now. Just a few weeks ago, they had mistaken a nest of thirteen vampires as a nest of three. Backed into a corner, Sam had prayed to Gabriel and not half a second later, every vamp in their vicinity had been vaporized. 

 

Or if they needed healing. Dean was half-convinced that the angels had but a monitoring spell on them because everytime they got more than a paper cut one of them showed up and healed them… not that Dean was complaining. It was nice not to be in pain for very long after a hard hunt.  

 

“So whatcha reading, Sammy?” Dean asked the common question, plopping down beside his brother. 

 

“This,” Sam showed him the cover. It was just a black cover with the block words BOOK II. Book two? So interesting, Dean rolled his eyes.  

 

Dean grabbed the remote from the table and flicked on some random movie. But he didn’t watch the movie, he watched his brother. Dean knew their fight for happiness was far from over, but the battlefield was calm right now. Dean knew that there were still hunters out for their blood, hunters that didn’t care if they weren’t hurting anyone. Hunters that could pop up at any time with a knife in hand. 

 

But he knew they would be ready. With the power of them together, backed by two angels (one being an archangel) Dean didn’t see anything as impossible anymore. Not even being with his soulmate. 

 

He and Sam had started out very, very slowly. They went out on dates and Dean discovered just how romantic Sam could be. He treated Dean like a damned prince and honestly, Dean relished in the undivided attention.  

 

They kissed and enjoyed sleeping in the huge California king bed Gabriel had snapped up… that memory foam, Christ. 

 

Then once, as they were kissing, Sam had taken it a step further and Dean had gladly reciprocated. He still remembers it as one of the best nights of his life. 

 

_ Kissing Sam was so easy, so pleasurable, like he was created for this very purpose. He could lose hours at a time trapped in those lips and under those unwavering hands. Sam was on top of him, their bodies only a hairbreadth apart. They were both shirtless and Dean had his eyes close, just enjoying Sam’s lips.  _

 

_ One of his hands were trailing up and down Sam’s back, feeling the dips and curves. Every once and a while his fingers brushed over an old scar, usually from a wound he had stitched up himself. He could tug on the ends of Sam’s hair and get a breathy moan…. Dean truly loved knowing each and every one of Sam’s tells. He loved exploring his soulmates body, mapping it out and memorizing every single inch.  _

 

_ Then he tensed as he felt Sam’s hand brush over the front of his boxers.  _

 

_ “Sammy-,”  _

 

_ “Shh,” Sam whispered, pulling away only slightly so their eyes could lock. “Can we try something new?”  _

 

_ Dean’s body was screaming ‘hell to the fucking yes’, but his traitorous mind still hesitated. His gaze began to drop before he found his chin held in the firm grasp of his brother.  _

 

_ “Dean,” Sam’s eyes were so sincere, galaxies of hazel. “Don’t think about anything but this. Don’t think about what dad would think or - or anyone else but you. Not even me. Just… want do you want, Dean?”  _

 

_ “You,” Dean said, quick, sincere, and completely the truth.  _

 

_ “Then let me have you,” Sam said, slipping his hand under Dean’s boxers.  _

 

_ Dean groaned at the feeling. Fucking god, he didn’t know it was possible to feel so good. To feel so warm and safe and loved. To feel… this.  _

 

_ Dean kissed harder, following the instructions of his body without thinking. Sam and he worked perfectly together. The way they moved, the way it felt… it was perfect because they were perfect. They were made for each other. They were soulmates.  _

 

“Dean?” He heard Sam ask as a hand brushed through his hair. “Your movie’s over. Never really pegged you for a Titanic fan.” 

 

Dean blinked away the memory, looking at the TV to find the end credits of the Titanic playing. Dean scowled as his brother laughed. It wasn’t like he was paying attention when he switched the damn thing on. It wasn’t his fault that a chick-flick was the first thing to come up. 

 

“Shut up,” Dean said without any heat. 

 

“But really,” Sam said. “What were you thinking about?” 

 

Dean didn’t blush he… felt his face heat up a  _ very _ small amount. Because honestly, his damn day-dreaming had been more chick-flicky than the stupid movie. 

 

“Just about,” Dean turned towards Sam, his hazel eyes looking very greenish today, practically glowing in the dim light. “About us, the first time we were together.” 

 

Sam, his quick witted brother, immediately caught on and a smile spread over his face. “Yeah?” 

 

“Yep.” 

 

“Maybe I could give you a more… physical reenactment,” Sam laughed, kissing Dean thoroughly. 

 

“I’d like that,” Dean returned the kiss. “Refresh my memory.” 

 

* * *

Dean was asleep. He was having a  _ fantastic _ dream of repeating a brilliant round of sex with Sam. So, anyone would understand how irritated he was when he was woken up, especially by Heaven’s most annoying angel. 

 

“Boys!” Gabriel and his stupid shit-eating grin called from the doorway. “It’s like four o’clock in the evening!” 

 

Dean groaned as Sam stirred and he wondered just how difficult it would be to kill the archangel. He could probably pull it off. Because, yes, it was four o’clock, but they had only gotten back from the bad side of a werewolf hunt three hours ago. So, in Dean’s mind, they were entitled. 

 

“Dean?” Sam mumbled from his left. 

 

“Dude,” Dean sat up stiffly, letting the blanket pool in his lap, and squinted at the stupid angel. “What the  _ hell _ ?” 

 

“Do either of you even know what day it is?” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It’s literally  _ Christmas Eve _ . That’s like a big deal in my family!” 

 

“It was a  _ pagan _ holiday,” Sam bitched, more awake now. 

 

“Exactly!” Gabriel smiled, opening his arms. “Did you two idiots forget that I’ve lived with the pagans for  _ centuries _ ? So that makes today doubly important to me.” 

 

“And we should care why?” Sam asked and Dean liked that he was backed up in this.  

 

“Sammy,” Gabriel whined. “I’m hurt. Now hurry up before I just zap the blanket away.” 

 

“Hey,” Sam glared. “Out.” 

 

Gabriel gave a mock salute before marching back down the hallway. Dean, always impressed at how the angel seemed to listen to Sam, was glad as he left. Zapping away the blanket would have been awkward on all accounts, seeing as they were both naked.  

 

Now that they were both up, they didn’t see much of a choice. They got dressed as Dean considered Gabriel’s words. He actually had planned a little something for tomorrow. He was going to get one of those little mini Christmas trees and maybe take Sammy out for dinner or something. They never really did Christmas and the subject usually just made Sam sad. He knew that Sam, just like himself, had always longed for a home to celebrate Christmas in. 

 

But now they had a home and they even had friends, albeit odd friends, but still friends to celebrate with. Dean had two sweaters that could be considered Christmas-y. A pure red one and a pure green one. With a moment of consideration, Dean tossed the green one at Sam’s head. That one was a little big for him, so it should fit his brother perfectly. 

 

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him, but pulled the sweater on anyway. 

 

Once they were dressed, they walked out to find their entire bunker had been Christmased. There was a full-sized tree with lights and bulbs. There were even  _ presents _ under it. There were stockings below the TV and bowls of candy absolutely everywhere. 

 

“Wow,” Dean said softly. 

 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said from the kitchen, a red Santa hat sitting crooked on his head. “Sam.” 

 

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said. “What’s going on?” 

 

Turning to his brother, Dean found him with a dorky grin on his face and awe in his eyes. And that,  _ that _ made it worth it. That would make anything worth it. Even Christmas being exploded in their bunker without their knowledge.  

 

“Christmas,” Castiel said. “Gabriel was rather insistent on celebrating together. ‘Like a family’, I believe he said.” 

 

“Not my exact words,” Gabriel called from further in the kitchen. 

 

Then argument between Castiel and Gabriel descended as Castiel stood true that  _ yes, Gabriel, those were your exact words _ . It was honestly pretty funny and Dean felt his tiredness melt as he listened to the angels bicker. 

 

* * *

 

Later that same day found himself, Sam, Gabriel, Castiel, and Bobby all sat around their kitchen table. Castiel had flown to get Bobby, who grumbled thoroughly about angels just ‘appearing to give him a heart attack’. Also, just like Dean, Bobby didn’t seem to be a big fan of flying.   

 

The total saving grace had been both Gabriel’s and Castiel’s cooking skills. Castiel cooked very by-the-book. He followed the instructions to the dot and made exactly what the packaging intended him to. Gabriel however, would just throw out the boxes and put as much as he felt was right in. 

 

Dean helped, as he wasn’t a terrible cook himself, but he was nothing compared to the angels who had both been alive since cooking was  _ invented _ . Sam also tried to help and ended up starting their first kitchen fire so Dean had quickly put an end to Sam’s cooking experience. 

 

Bobby didn’t try to help, just sat in the den with a beer and kept Sam entertained by listening to what all Sam had learned from the bunker’s extensive book collection. 

 

By the time dinner was ready, Dean was both hungry and exhausted, although he had been asleep not three hours earlier. However, he was also kind of looking forward to doing this all again tomorrow. Dean had to admit, it felt good to  _ really _ be able to celebrate a holiday. 

 

Gabriel and Sam quickly got into a… disagreement about who  _ actually  _ started the fire. 

“I wasn’t even near the damn thing!” 

 

“You don’t have to be - you’re an angel.” 

 

“Why would I do that?” 

 

“Maybe because you’re a  _ trickster _ .” 

 

“Ex-trickster, thank you.” 

 

Dean smiled at his brother as he continued to banter with Gabriel. Bobby and Castiel were talking in what sounded like… Japanese? Which wasn’t that unexpected, Dean guessed. Bobby probably liked talking to someone who could also speak the language and Castiel probably knew every language humans had ever constructed.  

 

Looking over the table, Dean realized everyone he cared about was here. His dad… his dad was gone., hopefully in Heaven with their mom. Sam, his brother, soulmate, lover was sat right next to him, their legs brushing. Castiel, who had quickly become his best friend was on his other side. Bobby, his uncle in all but blood was across from him. Gabriel, who acted like a really twisted guardian angel and friend was beside Bobby… they were all happy. 

 

Dean reached up a hand to tug through Sam’s hair, just because he could, and watched him turn with a smile. He knew there fight wasn’t over but… for now… for now they won. For now, they could just be happy. 

 

It was such an odd but incredibly welcome feeling that Dean experienced. Dean had read fairy tales to Sammy and watched those disney princess movies with him. He knew how those stories ended, with a happily ever after. Dean never, not once, thought he would get that. He never believed they were real. He didn’t even let himself fantasize about it, as it was too painful to dwell on that which he would never have. But now… it seemed like the universe had a change of heart. 

 

Dean soaked in the sight of his family, his  _ family _ , laughing and joking around the table. 

 

No, Dean never did believe in happy endings, but it would seem he got one anyway. 

 

**The End.**

  
  
  
  



End file.
